Flight of the Dragonlords
by Spiritus Rex
Summary: And so they fled, protecting what dragons were left by commanding them with deep throated bellows to take to the sky and never return to Camelot. Yet the lord of them, the highest Dragonlord, was unable to escape the wretched kingdom. He fell at the hand of Uther Pendragon, and so his hidden away son would fall at the hand of Arthur.
1. Flight

**AN: Hello! Welcome readers, new and old, to another Merlin fanfiction by yours truly, Spiritus Rex (but you can call me Ghost.) I've got two other currently updating Merlin multichapter fics (one of which is very close to closing up!) Buuuuuut this fic idea has been a fan favorite (so far) on the poll that I've got set up on my profile, so I decided to post chapter 1 as a little taste.**

**Notes: This story will contain elements from a few original Arthurian Legend tales, so if you see a name or a place you do not recognize from the Merlin show, I recommend a quick google search!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Merlin_**

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

><p>"<em>RUN."<em>

The smell of fire and blood was heavy in the air, choking the man as he turned and fled from the armored soldiers approaching. He stumbled twice in his haste, the second time because he had looked back to his second-in-command who had told him to run in the first place. He was leaving his men in their thick cloaks behind to face the red armored soldiers, leaving them behind in favor of fleeing. It was not strategic, it was not a display of strength, it was cowardice, pure and simple cowardice.

"_Balinor, keep running!"_

He turned away for the last time, resolved to never look back again no matter what he would hear. Balinor did not want to see the destruction and devastation that would surely befall his people. A dragon roared in the distance to his left, a high, pain-filled sound that shook him to his very core. Another dragon screamed to its kin's aid, and across the battlefield, the same situation was happening over and over again as dragon after dragon was attacked. The Dragonlords that led their dragons shouted and screamed in their attempts to overwhelm the forces fighting against them; armored men that marched seemingly without tiring, their flags and crest mocking the efforts of the Lords with the image of a bright golden dragon sewn into red fabric. The flags were flying freely in the wind, the fabric bending and curling over itself lazily as if the ground beneath them were not shaking with the battle that raged.

Balinor was filled suddenly with the urge to snatch one of those flags down and set it ablaze, but he was not so foolish as to turn around and risk his life simply for something so meaningless. Perhaps when the battle was over - and won, he had to hold onto that hope that they would win - then Balinor would return and tear up the flag of Pendragon right in front of Uther's face.

Pendragon, what an ironic name of nobility for the killer of dragons to have. In Balinor's opinion, the disgusting man that was Uther did not deserve to call himself a son of dragons, not after his mass deception of the Dragonlords to draw them to his kingdom and subsequent attempt at genocide of them and their dragon kin. Uther did not deserve _anything, _much less the name _Pendragon. _

A flaming arrow whistled over Balinor's head, drawing his mind from his swirling, hate-filled thoughts and back to the battlefield he fled from. He did not dare to spin to see where the archer was stationed, instead allowing a pulse of magic to emanate from him and push back all those who might have wished him harm. The sound of metal armor clanging and clashing as the soldiers - swordsmen and archers alike - fell was music to Balinor's ears. His stride did not falter though in its quick, almost hysteric, pace, even after all perceived threats had been pushed out of range and prevented from shooting at his turned back.

Balinor had nearly reached the edge of the forest without turning back even once, running as his men had commanded him to run out of concern for him, the highest of them all. But of course, that was all before the first dragon took to the skies.

The beast shot upwards, the grey scales of its claws and haunches slick with dirt, blood, and ash. It's massive head bobbed upon its tree trunk of a neck as it weaved its way through the sky, unaware that it had caught the attention of Balinor and halted him in his path to refuge in the forest. The second dragon went up then, mere moments after the first, this one with rough auburn scales and one claw that bled heavily from two missing toes. Balinor watched in shock, unsure of if he should feel dread or relief, as more and more dragons began to flee the battlefield at their Dragonlord's command. They were losing the battle, even with mighty creatures the likes of which were rarely outmatched upon their side. So Balinor's men were fleeing - but not without first thinking of protecting their dragons, as they were the true targets of Uther's attack. Uther feared the dragons, this was no secret and was known across all the five kingdoms. He feared them and their massive power; a power that was balanced by the mystic wisdom characteristic of most dragons, that both frightened and awed the magic-less king. A dragon's connection with its Dragonlord frightened Uther as well, for to have such a great creature of the Old Religion - some longer and larger than most castle towers - _bow_ to a mortal simply at the sound of their voice-! It was too much power to leave unchecked, too much power for others to have and not _him_. After the dragons, there was no doubt that the mad king would come next for the Dragonlords who had fought against him and of whom he was jealous and so very afraid of.

A roar of rage, one that was startlingly close to him, alerted Balinor once more to the danger he still was in. His mother and his wife had always told him that he had always been easily distracted, prone to stumbling clumsily as his head became caught in the clouds. He spun just in time to stagger back as a sword sliced down the air where his shoulder had been moments ago. The sharpened metal tip caught upon Balinor's thick cloak and pulled, ripping the fabric cleanly and very nearly cutting into his skin. He let out a yell of surprise, having thought all adversaries and enemies knocked unconscious or pushed back by his earlier pulse of defensive magic, and sent another concentrated wave out towards this helmeted man that was now trying to strike him. His eyes flared golden, and the attacking soldier was spun backwards and tossed against the trunk of a tree that was near. Balinor breathed out sharply and took a step backwards, closer to the forest that all the other Dragonlords had also begun to flee to. The dragons filled the skies by now, healthy and injured wings alike carrying them away from the white walls of Camelot. For one heart stopping moment, Balinor glanced away from helmeted soldier to the dragon-filled sky, and was shocked when he did not immediately spot _his _dragon, Kilgharrah. The moment was over though as soon as his panic cleared and allowed him to remember just _where _the Great Dragon was, and Balinor allowed himself a small breath and a faint smile.

"What are you grinning about, _Dragonlord_?"

His smile froze, and he turned blazing gold eyes to the man who had dared to attack him. The helmet now was slipping from his head, having been dented and dislodged when the soldier had hit the tree. But Balinor did not need the helmet to be removed to know who it was who now held a sword to his chest.

"_Uther." _Balinor snarled, hand reaching for his own sword which he very rarely used. Uther's sword twitched towards his neck as Balinor did, and so the Dragonlord's hand stilled just short of the hilt. Meanwhile, the Pendragon king wrenched his dented helmet from his head, revealing his face to his rival and one-time acquaintance.

As the battle and fire burned around them, Uther and Balinor stood in a still stalemate, with no one coming to Uther's aid, and no one coming to Balinor's aid. Balinor wondered for a moment, distractedly again, what fate had befallen his second in command, or his other Dragonlord kin and subjects that had fought beside him, or his wife. "What were you smiling about?" Uther demanded again, expression cold and closed off as the tip of his sword dipped towards Balinor's sternum, hovering just around the area of the Dragonlord's heart. Uther's lips curled in disgust as he spat, "Your people are conquered, your dragons have fled. You have _lost, _Balinor." Balinor glared with all his might at the king standing before him, and Uther returned his glare in kind, "So why did you smile?"

Foolishly, Balinor could not help but glance again towards the sky.

Slowly, Uther slid his eyes to the sky as well, as all the color drained from the highest Dragonlord's face once he realized what he had done. The King's eyes squinted to see the dragons as they fled, the beasts heeding the bellowed words of their Lords and escaping the kingdom of Camelot, never to return. Each dragon that flashed by, scales rippling and shining, was examined as closely as Uther could do so before they were gone from his view. Balinor knew the moment Uther brought his eyes down that the king of Camelot had noticed Kilgharrah's absence.

Uther had been acquainted with Kilgharrah in the time before he had begun his genocide of the dragons and Dragonlords, back when he and Balinor had been on civil terms with each other; allies almost. He could recognize the Great Dragon by merely his gold scales, a color of scales which no other dragon possessed.

Uther's sword tip pressed painfully into Balinor's collar bone, and the Dragonlord felt blood seep from the wound and stain his shirt. Uther's narrowed eyes were mere slits of suspicion, and he pinned Balinor where he stood with them. "Where is the Great Dragon?" Uther snarled, "_Where is he_?"

In the face of Uther's obvious discomfort and fear at the absence of the Great Dragon, Balinor smiled daringly, even though he had Uther's sword already poking in his flesh. "I don't know." Balinor lied, grinning even wider as Uther's face went red.

The King made a mistake then, as he pulled back his sword and swung his arm up, readying to strike Balinor down. But in the time that Uther took to wrench his sword away, Balinor took the same time to artfully slide his own sword from its scabbard and bring it crashing upwards towards his enemy. Uther's skin, just above his right eye, was cut open and began to bleed heavily as the sword finished its arch. He cried out in pain and clutched at the wound with his left hand, covering half his face as he did so, yet still holding his own sword tightly in his right. Balinor danced backwards, showing an agility and skill that one would not think of him having if one had seen him stumbling as he fled the battle earlier that day.

Uther snarled and snapped his teeth, tasting blood as his head wound did not stop bleeding and continued to paint the right side of his face a frightening red not unlike the color of his crest and flags. He removed his hand from where it held the wound and returned it to the hilt of his sword, gripping the weapon tightly with one clean glove and one blood slicked one. Balinor had not managed to cut Uther's eye, but Uther's vision was still blurred and impaired, making him clumsy as he thrusted forward with his sword in an attack on the Dragonlord before him.

Balinor, now with the upper hand, completely ignored the roaring sounds of his losing dragons in the distance as he continued to back away tactically from Uther's swinging blade. The Pendragon was angry now, and in his anger his attacks were unrefined, no matter how skilled or trained a warrior he typically was. In any other battle, if Uther had been wounded he still would have still been able to fight competently, and yet when facing his greatest enemy and greatest fear, with the Great Dragon's absence looming ominously over his head, Uther was becoming frantic trying to stop Balinor from successfully fleeing the battle. If Balinor - the highest Dragonlord, the Lord of them all - slipped through Uther's fingers, then another great fight loomed on the horizon, and Uther knew he could not win against the strength of dragons a second time.

In his efforts to escape Uther, Balinor had forgotten something though, and the thunk of an arrow as it pierced through his thigh reminded him.

Balinor went down to one knee, a groan escaping his gritted teeth despite his efforts to hold in the sound of pain. Uther paused in his assault with his sword and blinked, startled as if he had been unaware that he and Balinor were not alone on the battlefield, and that a Camelot archer had taken it upon himself to shoot and incapacitate his King's opponent. Uther did not turn toward the archer at all, did not acknowledge his assistance or thank him, and instead focused solely upon the Dragonlord now bending at his mercy. In one quick movement with no hesitation, Uther took the opportunity presented to him, and brought the hilt of his weapon down upon Balinor's head while grinning. Balinor fell sideways from the force of the blow against his temple, sight rapidly dimming with the one strike. He had almost made it to the forest, had almost managed to run successfully, but now, he had failed.

With another strike from Uther, Balinor's consciousness left him for someplace no doubt more peaceful. His last thoughts as the smell of fire and blood faded from his senses were of his son.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review! <strong>


	2. Fall

**AN: Alright, here's the last little taste of this story before I let it sit for awhile. I'm so glad that, within at most two days, the first chapter got such a great feedback. 14 follows and 9 favorites! Thank you all so much. I hope this second chapter manages to hook you all in further and that you enjoy it! **

**Responses to reviews on chapter 1:**

_**mersan123 - *confetti and balloons suddenly drop down from the ceiling* heeeey thank you for being my first reviewer on this new story! it really means a lot. Thank you thank you thank you :D **_

_**DarkMousyRulezAll - Yep, I went with this one. Though the poll is still open yep - and its not exactly little merlin OR S1 Merlin, more like- in between Merlin. For this fic, Merlin is going to be 16, and Arthur is going to be 18. I hold strongly to the headcanon that Merlin is at least two years younger than Arthur, and this fic - as an AU - is gonna be taking some liberties with the timeline anyways. **_

_**Michele Cross - Yep- that scar is another headcanon I hold strongly to. That Balinor gave it to Uther is just so interesting to think about haha. Thank you so much for this review! **_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.**

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>Balinor awoke slowly, pain in his leg and pain in his head rudely gripping at him and pulling him to awareness. His vision cleared just as slowly, Balinor having to blink away the smoke and haze from the last moments he had been awake. When he finally managed to do so, the first thing he saw was a pair of bright blue eyes - not unlike his son's own blue eyes - peering at him through the bars of a dungeon cell. The boy the eyes belonged to was young, but not so young as to be called a child any longer, instead looking to be around seventeen or eighteen years of age. The boy peered into the cell Balinor had been shoved into during his unconsciousness, and the Dragonlord was now able to recognize that what he had originally mistaken for as curiosity was in fact disgust. There was <em>so much<em> disgust in the teen's gaze as he gripped the bars and squinted through them at Balinor that it nearly sent the man reeling in surprise. The Dragonlord knew then, that the pitiful person he was looking at could be none other than Uther Pendragon's son.

"You're Uther's boy." He grunted in greeting, stating a fact rather than asking a question. The boy reared away from the bars in surprise, clearly not expecting Balinor to attempt to speak with him, instead likely expecting - from experience with past prisoners - for the defeated Lord to cower in the corner of his dank and dark cell at the sight of him. He was the prince of Camelot after all, he was Uther's son, and had more power over a prisoner's own life in his little finger than they had had from birth.

Resolved not to show any more emotion to the prisoner - he had already slipped and shown how shocked he was at the greeting, something his father would not be proud of - the Prince straightened his back and released his grip from the bars. He stood tall, and glared down at the Dragonlord who sat at the back of the cell, "Yes, I am." He said, as if - Balinor snorted amusedly - as if being born of Uther was something to be proud of.

"Why are you here?" Balinor asked. The question had been burning on his mind since he had first awoken and met those blue eyes. Why, after all, would Uther's son be staring so intently at a convicted _criminal _while he slept, wounded and unconscious? It was a mystery, and Balinor was weak when it came to mysteries. He enjoyed answers to his questions, he enjoyed finding and discovering things. His son did too. His son was so inquisitive it was almost annoying sometimes with how feverishly he sought knowledge and purpose in his life. Faced now with Uther's son, Balinor felt sick with worry, and wondered if he'd ever see his own son again.

The Prince of Camelot did not answer for a moment, and when he did, it did not clear the air of Balinor's question, "I'm Arthur. You know. Prince Arthur." He said, suddenly seeming young as he did so, almost as if he had thought Balinor did not know his name and was striving to make sure the Dragonlord knew who exactly he was talking to before the man was executed. The boy's mannerisms were confusing and contrasting, but Balinor was not about to waste his time on the son of his enemy.

"I knew your name already, boy." Balinor snarled, trying to raise himself up from the ground only slightly so that he may move his injured leg into a more comfortable position. Nothing, at this point, will be truly comfortable, but if he could at least take some of his weight from the limb it would make things somewhat better. "Now tell me, _why_ are you _here_?"

Arthur bristled at Balinor's response and then demanded answer, "How dare you speak to me like that, _Dragonlord._"

The hate and disgust that coated Balinor's title was not Arthur's own, and so seemed out of place coming from his mouth. He had heard his father curse the Dragonlords, their practices, and their dragon kin so often that to speak in such a way - to mimic his father in such a way as to make the man _proud _- had just become second nature. It made Balinor somewhat sad to think that such a young boy, with so much potential, was already so weighed down by his father's pride that he was growing up as a miniature version of the man so hated by many.

That man stepped into sight then, coming from the side and appearing behind his son in front of Balinor's cell. The younger Pendragon almost did not notice his father's presence, and jumped slightly into a stiff backed, professional stance when he did. Uther glanced his son once over, gaze impassive and yet judgemental at the same time, before he completely ignored Balinor in favor of asking Arthur, "What are you doing down here, Arthur?"

Arthur answered as if he were answering the King and not his father, with the voice of a knight following orders and reporting only the facts. "I came to check on the prisoner, sire, to make sure his wounds were not so terrible that he would die before you were able to interrogate him."

Uther squinted his eyes at his son, but then conceded and gave the boy a small nod of approval. As the king turned away though, Balinor saw how Arthur's entire expression seemed to light up, and how the tension had drained from his shoulders. The poor boy, how starved for praise he must be to react in such a way to a nod and an absence of a scolding.

Large, war worn hands gripped the bars of Balinor's cage, contrasting with the youthful yet calloused ones of Arthur. Uther glared down through the darkness at him, and Balinor grinned at the sight of the bandage that was wrapped across the king's forehead. No doubt the strike would heal, but it would definitely scar. A gift from Dragonlord to Pendragon.

Well aware of what Balinor was grinning at, Uther kicked the bars roughly, causing a heavy clang to echo through the dungeons. Arthur flinched back minisculely where he stood just behind his father at the man's right side, but Balinor did not react at all except to drop the grin from his face and stare coldly back at the man before him.

"Tell me where the Great Dragon is." Uther snarled, not wasting any time or mincing any words, instead launching right into the questioning. It was hardly a formal interrogation - Balinor was certain he wasn't being tortured, though just seeing Uther's face was torture enough - and Balinor was never going to let Uther have any information.

"Never." He hissed, shifting his weight again and extending his injured leg out in front of him. He winced, but it did not dim the anger that bubbled now within him, "If you expect me to sell out my kin to the likes of you, you are more of a fool than I ever thought."

Uther bared his teeth and threatened, "You _will_ tell me, or you will watch your men die."

That gave Balinor pause, but he shook his head, "I have already watched my men die. They died for a noble cause, and knew what they were fighting for. If you kill more before me, it will only give me an opportunity to tell them goodbye, rather than have them end like their brothers on the battlefield, alone and without hope."

Uther's face was rapidly turning red, and Arthur shifted on his feet behind his father. The boy was obviously unsure of what to do - of whether he should stay or go. He remained though, listening to his father's interactions with the Dragonlord whom his father had told him time and time again was the scum of the earth. Magic corrupted indefinitely, and the Dragonlords were the most powerful of all the magic users. They held nothing but evil in their hearts, and had - according to his father's teachings - sold their souls to the devil long ago in order to obtain their connection with and command of the dragons, which were no natural beasts. The extermination of the dragons and Dragonlords was something necessary in order to open the gates for the full cleansing of magic from Albion. They were roaches, stains, pests, and so they had to be exterminated. Yet as Arthur watched, all he saw was a wounded man with tired eyes - not an evil mad man twisted by power, a pest, or a roach in the slightest - and his father looking angrier and more frightening than he ever had before.

"Would you rather watch your _wife_ die?" Uther hissed, voice like an executioner's axe.

Balinor froze, not expecting that, and from the corner of his eye he saw Arthur freeze as well. The Pendragon boy was the last thing on his mind though, as Balinor sat there in shock. The mere thought that Uther had somehow managed to find and get his hands on _Hunith…_

Balinor lunged to his feet and slammed his hands through the bars just as Uther stepped back, his still bloodstained hands reaching for the Pendragon's gross, thick neck in an effort to squeeze the life from him. "_Don't you touch her!"_ Balinor said through chomping teeth, looking very much like the dragons he was kin with in his rage. His hands flailed for a moment more, still trying in vain to reach Uther, to snag a grip on his clothes and pull him close, _anything. _

"Tell me where the Great Dragon is, and I won't."

Balinor's chest heaved with each heavy breath, and his eyes burned a smoldering hole through the center of Uther's face. He did not slump against the bars as his energy flagged, instead leaning upon his good leg and still managing to stay standing. He would not show his weakness to his enemy, not anymore. Dragonlords were, like their dragons, far too proud of creatures for that.

"No, if you truly have her, you will anyways." Balinor said, every word dripping in both parts rage and pain. "You will just kill me first, because you are a liar, Uther Pendragon. A liar and a coward and a _murderer_."

Arthur's face was red where he stood behind his father, expression one that could either be interpreted as rage on behalf of Uther, his king, or disgust and horror at the conversation he was hearing.

Balinor turned his gaze slightly, and decided to address the boy. He was there after all, why not give him some wisdom. "I hope you become better than your miserable, murdering, _worm_ of a father, boy." He said, "I hope you do not follow in his footsteps, but of course, that is likely too much to ask of fate." Uther moved violently, as if to silence Balinor, but not before the Dragonlord continued, "My son will be a great man, he will be greater than the both of you, and I am sorry for you, son of Uther, that you do not have the chance to be as great."

Uther stopped, Balinor stopped, Arthur stopped. Then a chilling grin spread across Uther's face.

"You have a son."

"_Uther…_" Balinor hissed warningly, now back to fully addressing the older Pendragon, leaving Arthur without even a chance to respond, instead letting him stand in the background and stew in what had been said to him.

"You have a son, and you have hidden him with the Great Dragon, am I not correct?"

"_Uther." _Balinor's voice rose.

"And if I kill you, he will inherit your gifts of course. So I must kill him as well. "

"_Uther!" _

"But while dragons cannot be tracked by any means, mundane _or_ magical, humans _can. _Perhaps when I find your son I will not kill him. Maybe I will merely take him prisoner. Keep him locked beneath the castle in chains. What could be a better symbol of this kingdom's triumph over magic than the last dragon and Dragonlord kept at my mercy?"

"_UTHER!" _Balinor roared in rage and fear for his son, voice verging upon the deep throated, frightening bellow with which he commanded dragons.

Then, without warning, Uther's sword was sliding through the bars of the cell, through the bars of Balinor's ribs, and out the other side of his body. The Dragonlord's angry shouting was cut off, and he gagged at the sudden intrusion, blood coming up through his throat and staining his teeth and Uther's face as it splattered from his lips. His brown eyes bulged with shock, and as the sword slid away, his body jerked once before it fell.

"I'll admit, I do not have your wife." Uther said, voice calm and darkly teasing now that his rage had been satiated with the information he had sought. He stared down at Balinor as the Dragonlord breathed harshly and lay upon the ground. Balinor looked away. "But she is unnecessary." Arthur's white face and wide blue eyes filled Balinor's vision, "Yet your son, now, your son I will hopefully have here as my guest very soon."

Balinor clutched a metal bar with a shaking hand, trying to anchor himself even as his life left him. He could feel his abilities as a Dragonlord fade away, like a string was tugging his innate knowledge of how to command a dragon from his mind to deliver it to another. _From father… to son… upon death._

"Hopefully he will have better manners and be more gracious for my hospitality than you, Balinor."

His son… _his son… _

Balinor's heart thudded painfully and stutteringly in his chest. His grip upon the bar, his grip on his_ anchor_, began to slide away. As he died, Balinor used his last living thought to send a message to Kilgharrah, his dragon whom he had hatched and whom had stuck by his side like a brother.

"_Protect Merlin."_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Please review!<em>**


	3. Sent

**AN: aaaaand by let sit for awhile I actually meant "cave after only four days and post the next chapter." - I have up to chapter 6 (and half of chapter 7) written so far, and so I wanted to wait until I had finished Greatest Need before posting more of this story, but Greatest Need - as it always has been - has been being stubborn and refusing to let me write its final chapter(s) - so, as I continue to work on Greatest Need and Keep Your Head Down (which will be ongoing for quite awhile yet) I decided not to let you readers wait in a period of non-updates, and so I have posted this chapter. **

**But gosh- the reviews and amount of favorites/follows that this story has so quickly gained has been great! Thank you all so much!**

_**Not going to do review responses on this chapter - will reply individually! - will probably start doing this more as well, since responding to reviews tends to make the AN long and gross**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin**

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>The body of the Dragonlord lay upon the floor of the cell, blood pooling out from the corpse and staining the stone ground. Arthur, though he had fought in battle beside Uther before, could not recall if he had ever seen a man die by his father's own hand. The way with which Uther had struck down the Dragonlord had been sudden, merciless, and without trial. Though truly, Arthur supposed the "<em>without trial" <em>bit was due to the obvious crimes against Camelot which the ragged, bearded man had no doubt committed. And yet, had it really been necessary for Uther to not even have the man lead to the executioner's block? Uther had gotten all the information he had wanted, and then had killed the Dragonlord when he had been emotional due to the threat against his wife and son, and thus had been unable to fight back. Arthur, try as he might to see it, could really find no honor in what he had just watched his father do except for the fact that it had been done to a sorcerer.

Now, Uther was just going to leave without even _trying _to seem remorseful or honor the body of his enemy.

"Come, Arthur." Uther said, holding his bloodstained sword slightly away from his body, likely keeping it ready to hand off to the first servant he saw so that the metal could be taken to get cleaned of blood and polished to perfection. "I have something I need to discuss with you."

Arthur swallowed back a gulp, throat working against the tight lump - of fear? - that was there. "Yes father." He said, and obediently followed two steps behind the king as the man led the way out of the dungeons. As expected, the first servant to cross the two royals' path was handed Uther's bloody sword. The girl - a young kitchen maiden from the looks of her flour-stained apron - squeaked and nodded subserviently as the king commanded her to take the weapon to the armory for cleansing, sharpening, and polishing. The girl scurried away immediately, eyes to the ground and sword held in her hands as if it were a dangerous serpent. Arthur did not know how to feel about that.

They made their way through the castle in silence, up the winding staircases that only led up and up away from the darkness below. Instead of going to the King's chambers though, the place where Arthur was always summoned when his father needed to speak with him, the two Pendragons entered into the smaller of the two council chambers, with its one long table and small space at the back of the room for three large wood chairs. Typically, Uther would sit in the center chair, the largest of the three, with Arthur on his right and his ward Morgana on his left. This was the room where issues were taken when they were not to be made a spectacle of or were not important, things like farmers quarrelling over a calf or merchants squabbling about the prices they were demanded they sell their wares at. The larger chamber, in the other hall of the castle, was for the extravagant things. Feasts, pleads for Uther's aid, trading agreements, dinners with nobels. Only the best for the best and only the worst for the worst after all. So the fact that Arthur was to talk with his father there, in the smaller chamber, filled him with an odd sense of shame. Of course, logically, Uther did not want attention called to whatever topic he would discuss with his son, but still, when he stood facing the large three chairs rather than sitting in one, Arthur felt incredibly small.

"Do you understand all that you heard?" Uther asked, sitting down not in his usual chair at the head, but instead merely pulling one from around the long council table and sinking into it. Arthur did not dare to take such a liberty, and stood at Uther's side as if he were a knight giving a report.

"Yes sire."

"Good." Uther grunted, giving no more praise, "Then you will have no trouble understanding this; I want you to find the Dragonlord's son."

Arthur stiffened.

'_Maybe I will merely take him prisoner. Keep him locked beneath the castle in chains.'_

"How will I-"

Uther cut off his question with a dismissive wave of his hand, and Arthur snapped his jaw shut just as if he had never opened it at all.

"The laws against magic are... Regrettably... Not yet fully in place." Uther said this as if it pained him to admit it, and - Arthur thought - it likely did. His father had been basing his entire campaign against magic upon the attack against the Dragonlords, and with how that turned out in this bloody battle years later, things were not looking to be in favor of Pendragon. "So if you were to be unable to track the boy through natural or usual means, employing a magical tracker would not be objected to or result in any punishment."

Arthur, for a moment, could not help but stand there completely gobsmacked. Here he was, standing before Uther Pendragon, the one-man war against magic, who was basically _ordering _him on no uncertain terms, to use magic. Or rather, employ magic, but it was practically the same thing.

He attempted to dissuade the king from his decision, "But, father, I don't-"

Uther's gaze pierced him, "Are you trying to disobey my direct orders?" He questioned coldly, reading the hesitance in Arthur's movements and words.

Arthur backtracked and composed himself, "I just don't understand why I specifically am being assigned with this… quest. Surely there are more experienced knights stronger and more versed in the land as to be able to track down the Dragonlord's son with far more ease than I will be able to." Knights able to track better than he would also be less likely to be required to fall back on magic, something Arthur definitely did not want to do and yet somehow knew he could not succeed without. All his life he had been taught of the terrors and evils of magic, and now the fact that his father was condoning its use to have his own ends meet didn't add up in the young Pendragon's mind. He did not want to have to go back on the morals and opinions instilled in him since childhood and use magic, which any knight older than him would have no qualms about as long as they got the duty done for their king and country.

Uther sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The bandage across his forehead shifted as his brow furrowed in exasperation, his reaction much like as if Arthur were again a small child that Uther was having to deal with when he didn't want to. "There are no more experienced knights able to take this on, Arthur. Most of my forces are already out, hunting down the Dragonlords that managed to flee. Also," He looked Arthur straight in the eyes, he connected their gaze and held it as his son froze and tried not to look away, "There is no one else I trust more with this. This Dragonlord's son is not merely just that, he is the son of their _leader. _He is, essentially, their _Prince_. He is far too important a piece in this war to entrust the finding of to a mere knight - a knight who would also need to be re-informed of all that was discussed in the dungeon just now. Though the way will no doubt be dangerous, I trust you to succeed in this, my son."

Arthur knew he should have felt honored, he knew he should have puffed his chest out with pride at such a compliment in any other moment. If more knights had been in the room or had his usual rowdy group of friends been near, then he would have strutted about as if being entrusted with hunting down a child was on par with slaying one of the fantastic dragons that the child so commanded. He was honored, truly, deep down inside, but at the moment all he could remember was the panicked yelling of the Dragonlord the moment before Uther's sword had sunk into his body with a sick squelch.

That Dragonlord though - Arthur struggled to remind himself - had commanded hundreds of others to attack Camelot, _Arthur's home. _This twisted up feeling inside of him was completely unwarranted in light of that terrible deed, and so Arthur pushed away all thoughts that it was a child he was hunting down, and instead replaced them in his mind with the fact that it was a _monster _he was hunting down. The use of magic could be justified in that sense. He pushed the image of the bloodied Dragonlord - "_I am sorry for you, son of Uther" - _to the back of his mind, and thought instead of the fires that were no doubt still being put out in the lower town. Fire had to be fought with fire. There was no other way around it.

Uther could see the moment his son accepted the quest, could see the proud light reenter Arthur's eyes and settle back into its place there. The straight back and strong, royal, expression was a welcome change from the unsure hesitance that Arthur had displayed earlier in his misunderstanding of the mission Uther was tasking him with.

"I will succeed, father. You can count on me." Arthur said, accepting his assignment fully and all it would entail.

"Excellent." Uther said, sounding pleased that Arthur had agreed but not ecstatic. Who would be happy sending their child out into dangerous enemy infested wilderness? "I'll have the maps of the areas Balinor and other Dragonlords were known to stomp around in sent to your chambers for you to review them. You'll set out in three days."

Arthur blinked, stunned slightly for a moment. Three days was not a lot of time to prepare for a journey such as this one seemed to be gearing up to be.

But Arthur knew a dismissal when he heard one, and so he did not question the king, "Thank you sire." He said, bowing. Uther nodded to his son and then pushed himself to his feet from the random council chair he had sat in, as if to see his son out, and yet he did not move further. Arthur hesitated for a moment, watching the slow way with which his father stood, before he averted his eyes respectfully, turned, and strode towards the door.

Arthur pretended not to notice how his father sank back down into the chair as he shut the door behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	4. Start

**AN: Boop. Chapter 4! - and I know you all are clambering for Merlin to be introduced to the story, and I assure that Merlin is going to be coming in very soon in upcoming chapters, but sadly, this chapter is not those chapters. There were also a few concerns sent to me about the plausibility of Arthur being sent on a quest such as this one with him being so young in this story, buuuut this chapter hopefully does well to explain my planned out logic, and also shows that Arthur is not on this quest alone. **

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the past chapters and who followed this story, you guys are the best and the feedback is super duper appreciated (individual review responses will be PM'd!) I'm glad you all are liking this plot and story - and let me tell you, I'm very excited to see how you all take to some of the developments I have coming later on. :D**

_**(Note: the name Hengroen appears in this chapter - Hengroen is a stallion that was actually owned by King Arthur and mentioned in Arthurian Legend - specifically the tale "Culhwch and Olwen" - I noticed the name was used for Arthur's horse in other fanfics, did a little research, and added the name into my own story as well. I just liked the idea of Arthur being close to his horse and such :D)**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin**

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>Three days later, Arthur set out upon the quest to find the Dragonlord's son. He did not leave alone though as he had expected, instead leaving the gates of Camelot on horseback with the knights Sir Leon and Sir Pellinore at his side. Both men were trusted knights of Arthur's father; Sir Leon having trained Arthur himself, and Sir Pellinore having a natural penchant for tracking magical beasts. Arthur had heard tales that Sir Pellinore had tracked a creature known as the Questing Beast endlessly, even after days when the trail had long since gone cold, until finally he defeated it right outside Camelot's walls. The man, upon having his nobility verified as a king of some distant Isle, had been knighted by Uther as a councilman and knight almost immediately for his bravery and ability in taking down not only a beast, but a <em>magical <em>one, giving the man one more check in Uther's good books. The King had likely thought Pellinore's help would be invaluable upon the quest to find the Great Dragon and son of the Dragonlord Lord - that sounded odd in Arthur's head, he resolved to think of a new title for the now-dead Dragonlord - and had assigned him and Leon to accompany Arthur not only for assistance, but also for protection.

Though Arthur would argue that he didn't _need_ protection. He had been trained since birth for situations such as these, and even overpowered in a fight against bandits that fought dirty he was _sure - _foolishly - that he would win. It was a rather childish, deluded, and overly proud view of himself that everyone seemed to notice in the boy, and Sir Leon especially recognized that Arthur's attitude was not healthy or conductive to him becoming well-liked or very respected in the future. Alas, it was not his place to freely teach or admonish the King's son.

They rode on down the rough dirt path, trying to ignore the sight of the grass as it went from lush and green, to a deadened brown, to a burnt stain upon the ground. Trampled grass stained red with dried blood passed beneath the horses' hooves. The battle that the Dragonlords had waged against Uther's forces had been frighteningly close to the city of Camelot itself, and so the surrounding plains and forests bore the marks of the fighting that had gone on. Scorch marks from dragon flames and burning arrows were the most prominent. It was somewhat disturbing for Arthur, to not only have been involved in the battle - his first major battle since he had been fifteen years of age, and had killed King Odin's son accidentally - but to also see all that the land had suffered because of it. The lasting impressions upon the environment made the blur that the fighting had become in his mind somehow more real than it had been when he had gone back to his room to sit in safety. How must the rest of the country and the people caught in the crossfire be faring, with their land destroyed under dragon foot and fire?

The forest that Arthur, Leon, and Pellinore would soon be crossing into loomed ahead as a thick wall of trees across the horizon, and as they approached it Arthur spoke up and vocalized the thought on all of their minds. "So, how are we going to go about beginning this… search?" He hesitated before saying _search_, because so far everything leading up to that moment made the journey seem far more like a hunt than anything else. A hunt that would end either with Arthur and his knights being eaten by the Great Dragon, or with them returning to Camelot victorious, chained up Dragonlord's son and dragon in tow. Yes, this was definitely not a search. Search was far too mild a word that could follow any phase from _I've lost my socks_ to _the prisoner has escaped. _This quest was neither for socks nor prisoners, was for nothing that had been lost at all. It was for something they were actively instructed to find, and so, Arthur decided, it was a hunt.

Pellinore spoke up, answering Arthur's question while Leon examined the line of trees before them with a critical eye. One could never be sure where the bandits were hiding after all, and had to always stay vigilant, especially as a knight riding with his young prince. "I've arranged for a man to meet us halfway to the Dragonlord Balinor's old camp where he and the other Dragonlords organized themselves for the fight against us. It should be deserted know, but if Balinor were to hide his son somewhere, it would likely not be far from that location, sire."

Arthur hummed in acknowledgement as his horse plodded onwards, "And your man who you've arranged for us to meet, do you think him trustworthy?"

Pellinore's horse pulled up beside the prince's steed, and the knight met his prince's gaze. Arthur held it, asserting his confidence and command that he no doubt had despite his age in comparison to the two other knights. "Yes sire, he assisted me many years back for a time during my pursuit of the Questing Beast, and never told a soul what he was assisting me with. I believe his aid will be beneficial to our search."

Search. Arthur grimaced.

Hengroen let out a snort of sound, and Arthur broke his staring match with Pellinore to grip the horse's reins a tad bit tighter as trees began to pass them by. They had entered the forest without him even really being aware of it. "You seem to have much faith in this mysterious assistant." Arthur mumbled, not looking at his knight as he worked out in his mind how to broach the next subject, "Are his methods of tracking truly that... _effective_?"

Pellinore smiled weakly, obviously understanding what Arthur was nudging at, "He does not possess magic, my Lord. You need not worry."

Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief, relaxing minimally in his saddle. Leon and Pellinore shot each other unreadable glances over their prince's back as he did so. They all were aware that Uther had, in a rather roundabout way, given Arthur permission to seek out magical aid if need be. There was no telling what kind of wards or charms Balinor had put up with his own magic to keep his son hidden after all, and more often than not, that little inclination that sorcerers had to ward literally every piece of their property usually made it so only other magic users could find magic users. Leon and Pellinore, though they were Uther's men through and through, knew that they were older and more experienced in the way of the world than Arthur. They would have no problem requesting a bit of magic help, what with the laws against magic not yet fully in place and having seen the abilities of magic in their childhoods. But Arthur, even before the Dragonlords had rose up against Uther's attempts to snuff them out, had been raised as if magic had been banned since his birth. If Pellinore's man used no magic and yet could get the same result, well then, Arthur was definitely relieved, and Leon and Pellinore could tell.

"Good, that's good." Arthur said, smiling slightly and nodding his head to Pellinore gratefully. Pellinore nodded in return, and dutifully loosened his grip upon his own horse's reins so that he would drop a few steps behind Arthur's own mount. A knight was only to ride beside the prince if they were conversing or if the prince had asked him to do so, otherwise, the knights rode either in front or behind, depending upon the circumstance. Riding into a warzone, the knights went first, riding into a forest or a city, the prince went first if he so wished.

And first he did go. Arthur steered his horse well upon the worn down path that weaved its way through the trees, a path that likely many a traveler - and bandit troop - had taken before. Leon and Pellinore followed, silent once more as Arthur focused upon his thoughts and upon the way ahead. They would need to travel through the forest and exit out its other side before they reached the place that Balinor and the other Dragonlords had made their war camp before they had fought and fled. Unlike other bandits or groups looking to fight against the king, the Dragonlords had settled down under the cover of nothing but the sky, leaving themselves exposed on a wide open field so that their dragons could land and not be inconvenienced by the trees of the forest. After all, who needed to hide behind the safe cloak of nature when a dragon was at their side?

As it was, it would still take nearly two days or more riding to get to the field where the camp had been, with the halfway mark between there and Camelot, where Pellinore's man would meet the three knights, somewhere in the forest between point A and point B. That meeting would delay them further, and then once they reached the camp there was no telling how closely Balinor had hidden his son anyways. Arthur bit back a childish groan. So much time was being lost upon eventless journeying and searching, while other knights and men of the army were out in the world chasing the Dragonlords across all of Albion, with barely a second of boredom.

"When should we make camp, sire?" Leon asked from behind Arthur, causing the prince to twist in his saddle and blink at the knight. He hadn't thought that they had been riding for very long - perhaps he had been distracted by his talk with Pellinore and by the monotony of tree after tree passing him by without end. Arthur turned back to face forward in his saddle - Hengroen whistled at him indignantly as he shifted the reins and nudged the horse's side on accident. What an entitled, bossy stallion. - and contemplated Leon's question.

"How long do you think until we meet your man, Pellinore?" Arthur asked, holding his hand up to Leon so that the knight would wait patiently.

Pellinore glanced at the trees around them, up to the sky and the placement of the sun, and then looks back to Arthur, "Perhaps by first light if we ride without stop through the night." He confessed, confirming Arthur's estimate that it would take at least two days or more to reach the field, if the halfway mark was at least a day away.

Arthur turned back to address Leon then, "We should try and cover as much ground as possible before the sun sets then, after that we will make camp wherever we happen to be."

Leon acknowledged that he heard Arthur by kicking slightly with his heels at his horse's sides, causing it to pick its pace from a steady walk to a trot. Arthur narrowed his eyes, but allowed a small smirk in his knight's direction. At his other side, Pellinore followed Leon's example and he too urged his horse to move more quickly. Arthur, at risk of being left behind by his two ridiculous knights, clicked his heels at Hengroen's sides and spurned the horse to move faster as well. Hengroen, however, merely snorted once and continued at the same pace. Leon glanced back to Arthur at the prince's frustrated growling, and grinned widely at the sight of the prince's horse lazily not listening to Arthur _at all. _

"Leon!" Arthur said in what definitely was not a whine. Definitely not.

"Perhaps he is just tired, sire." Leon said, still grinning as he and Pellinore slowed their horses so as to ride beside their prince once more.

Arthur grumbled, nose scrunched, and he tugged at his horse's reins sharply. "Lazy good-for-nothing horse."

Leon snickered slightly at the teen's indignation, and Pellinore too hid a grin behind his glove as he said to placate the prince, "Well, perhaps we will not cover all the land we could have, but we will still manage quite a fair bit of the journey." Hengroen whinnied in agreement, and Arthur scowled down at his mount.

"You hear that, horse? You've gotten your way this time." Another high whinny was Arthur's response, and he sat back in his saddle with a very un-princely pout. Leon and Pellinore exchanged another, brotherly, amused glance over Arthur's back before they refocused their attention upon keeping their horses on the right path. They needn't have worried though, for the pace stayed steady as the three of them traveled on through the wood until the moment they all decided to camp for the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	5. Clang

**AN: aaaaah oh my goodness, at least 7 more follows for this story. I'm so grateful _(though I'd be a lot moooore grateful if there were more reviews to match *wink wink nudge nudge*)_ Now, this is the chapter you've all been waiting for- drum roll please - _Merlin_! Well, actually, not exactly. This chapter gives some insights into where Merlin is in an odd, roundabout way, but doesn't actually bring him fully into the story. Still though, i think his situation might intrigue you all :)**

**Thank you again for the reviews and favorites (Pleaseee keep reviewing. Please! Each word really means a whole lot and helps me more than you know.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.**

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>Leon took first watch that night, and Arthur gratefully burrowed down into his mat and blanket to sleep as much as he could before he was awoken for his watch. From across the fire, he could see Pellinore poking one last time at the logs and embers with a stick, turning the wood and urging the fire to grow. Arthur stared into the flames, feeling - as if against his will - his eyes droop further and further until they had very nearly shut. He hadn't realized he was <em>this<em> tired. Exhaustion was something that came after knight training, or a long day of tournament jousts and melees, not after riding on a horse for barely a full day. Perhaps it was more the mental aspects of the quest that were tiring him. The churning conflict of _hunt _or _search _was likely draining his strength - not to mention the worry he felt for the Camelot he had left behind, after the city had just suffered a terrible attack by the twisted forces of magic. Arthur once again, in his last moments of awareness, could not help himself from questioning his father's judgement. Pellinore and Leon were experienced enough knights, and surely would have been able to make the journey alone. They would likely become especially effective once Pellinore's man joined up with them. Arthur was unneeded, and he had never been so unsure of his duties before in his life, though he still held to the conviction that the monster that was the Dragonlord's son definitely, undisputably, needed to be contained. Perhaps _that_ heavy weight upon his shoulders was what was making him tired. The exhaustion steadily pulled at Arthur and cut off his thoughts as he lay there, the golden glow of the fire reflected upon his face. Slowly, Arthur gave up the fight, and his eyes slid shut. As they did so, voices began to whisper into his ears, steadily growing louder the longer his consciousness evaded him.

"He must be _taken from here!" Said the first voice, young and full of challenging fire._

"_No, he must stay!" The second voice was deep and gruff, commanding with it the weight of ages that Arthur had heard weak echoes of in the voice of the Camelot Court Physician, an old man named Gaius, when he spoke of ancient medicinal practices or chastised Arthur after a foolish act in which he had gotten hurt. _

"_We must go!" The young voice screeched._

"_No, we must remain where we are safest!" The older one bellowed._

"_We are sitting ducks here, we will die if any man comes across us!"_

"_How _dare _you challenge me!"_

_Arthur blinked, startled slightly by the loudness of the voices that boomed over his head and through the cave he had blinked and suddenly found himself in. The voices were loud and sonorous, echoing and causing rocks to fall with each time they sounded and shook the cave. He ducked his head slightly as a particularly large rock crashed down, like a drop of rain, directly to the right of the space he sat in. The space was obviously not very safe, and so he resolved to move himself from it to an area under a sounder roof. When he stood, a chain that Arthur had not noticed, which trailed upon the ground like a serpent, moved with him. He followed the length of the chain, which looked relatively new and strong, to see a large manacle clamped around his right ankle, also looking new and strong. His ankle though was what confused him. The skin beneath the manacle was comforted by a white sock buffer, but other than that, he wore very worn dirty brown boots. Above that, baggy brown pants the likes of which peasants would make and wear were rolled up to end just about mid calf, revealing pale legs that were several shades paler than Arthur's normal skin tone. The legs that were not Arthur's though seemed oblivious to his scrutiny, and continued to move and walk from the spot he had previously been sitting in, to a rather comfortable - if rocks could be described as comfortable - looking rock that he graciously dumped his weight down upon. The arguing voices continued to boom overhead._

"_We cannot leave anyways, as we are sealed within this cavern!"_

"_You know we are far more powerful than any enchantment meant to contain us! You know this!"_

"_We have been commanded to keep him safe and to stay here!"_

"_No, _you _have been commanded. _My _Dragonlord has commanded of me _nothing_."_

"_And foolishly so. Left to your own devices you are incredibly destructive. What safety will be gained from going out into the world where the Pendragon looms in our shadow waiting to strike?"_

_Arthur gasped at the sound of his name of nobility, but the body that was his for the duration of the dream did not do so. In contrast, the body sighed, as if it had heard this all before, and slumped further down against the rock he had propped himself upon. _

"_I wish you two wouldn't fight so much." Arthur said, speaking for the first time since he had fallen asleep. But the words were not his own, nor was the voice. The accent in which he spoke had more rounded vowels and swallowed consonants, and the voice was also higher than his own. Younger. Frailer._

_One of the booming voices came closer, but Arthur did not turn to face it. He did not hear what it said next either, as he pulled his knees to his chest and watched as water seemed to suddenly drip from the walls and run over his eyes and ears. The dream melted away, leaving Arthur disoriented and alone, with only the phantom weight of chain upon his ankle and _a sharp clanging noise in the distance as company.

The clanging became louder, and Arthur's eyes shot open, heart beating as fast as a bird's within his chest. He no longer was alone in the place the dream had melted into, but instead was curled upon his side in his mat, staring at the fire as he had been when he had fallen asleep. Pellinore stood against a nearby tree, watching over their small camp, and Leon was huddled into his mat near the fire much like Arthur was. Though truthfully, that was what Arthur would have _liked_ to see when he had woken up. Instead, Pellinore was drawing his sword from its scabbard as he carefully pushed himself away from the tree, and Leon was already grabbing at his own sword as he moved to get out of his blankets. There was danger nearby, and Arthur, taking after the older knights, decided to get himself out of bed, grab his sword, and face it. He had no time to try and interpret the odd dream, and already could feel it slipping away from his memory. The clanging became louder, closer.

Out of the darkness of the forest approached a man, who pulled behind him a terrifyingly large cage upon a cart. Arthur felt his eyes grow wide as he spotted the noisy contraption, the clanging coming from a loose chain that hit the knob of the back right wheel every time it spun around once. It was indeed unsettling, to see a cage that large, as everyone with any small amount of education knew that such cages were only used by bounty hunters or witchfinders, both of which hunted _people_ in order to get money into their pocket.

The man halted when he noticed the three knights, standing in formation with their swords drawn, the light of their dying fire reflecting off the metal of their weapons. He slowly let go of his cart, the leather gloves on his hands bending with the movement, and held those hands up, palms outwards, near his head in a sign of surrender.

"Evening." The man said, sounding imperious. Arthur felt his skin crawl as the man's gaze was drawn to him, as the youngest of the three Camelot knights, and seemed to bore into his mind.

But then, Pellinore stepped forwards, slid his sword back into its scabbard, and reached out to clasp arms with the man. "Aredian!" Pellinore said in greeting to the man - Aredian - as he stepped back, "I thought we'd have to ride another half a day before we came across you."

Aredian. The name sounded familiar to Arthur, and he hung back as Leon - still with his sword free in caution - approached and stood at Pellinore's side. Perhaps the man had sold escaped prisoners of criminals to Uther in the past, or perhaps Arthur had heard his name whispered amongst gossiping kitchen maids. Arthur leaned to look at the cart and cage again, squinting through the darkness at the bars and chains, and as he did so he could just make out the faint etching of runes upon the sides of some of the manacles.

A witchfinder then.

Trying not to feel unsettled that Pellinore was on good enough terms with a witchfinder as to summon him, Arthur sheathed his sword and walked over to stand between Leon and Pellinore, facing Aredian. Aredian, up close and without the cloak of forest shadows, looked to be well off. His face was clean, unlike most peasants or bounty hunters, and he wore a large brimmed black hat with a thick black coat to match.

"Aredian." Arthur said as he came face to face with the witchfinder, sweeping his eyes uninterestedly once over the man in a tactic he had seen his father use on visitors many a time. If you looked at them as if they could not possibly impress you, then they would endeavor to impress you even more.

Aredian, however, did not seem phased. He shared an amused glance with Pellinore, who did not see it because he had turned his attention to his prince, before extending his hand to Arthur. "Ah, you must be Prince Arthur."

Arthur blinked, and nodded slowly, "I must be." He said in an odd tone, before he reached out and grasped the man's arm in a strong shake, "I understand that Sir Pellinore contacted you, and that you will be helping us find the Dragonlord's son?" Arthur asked, getting straight to the meat of the matter. He _had_ noticed though Aredian's odd lack of a horse to pull his cart, and resolved to himself that he would ask on that later. But for now, Arthur knew he must remain focused. There was something shifty about Aredian's character, a quality of slime in the man's smile and voice that made Arthur wary to trust him as readily as Pellinore and a begrudging Leon seemed to.

Aredian nodded, and released Arthur's arm from his tight grip, pulling back to pinch at the brim of his hat. "Indeed I will be, sire."

Pellinore clapped Aredian on the shoulder, an action which the witchfinder grimaced at and seemed less than pleased to experience, "Back in my search for the Questing Beast, Aredian had all these weird techniques he used to help me find the thing. What did you say you did, Aredian? Sniff out the magic?"

Aredian shot a heavy glare in Pellinore's direction, but the knight only grinned. Pellinore was clearly under the misconception that, after Aredian had helped him once before, they were suddenly allowed the title of "old friends." Meanwhile, Arthur could see that Aredian was no friend to any man but himself, and was merely tolerating Pellinore's good natured ribbing.

"I did not _sniff it out _like a common _bloodhound_." Aredian said, ironically sniffing and sticking his nose up just a tad. He shrugged Pellinore's hand from his shoulder and straightened his jacket before looking seriously at Arthur. "Magic rots cities and villages, and leaves a trail, a _stench_, behind it that fools are unable to follow until it is too late."

Leon bristled beside Arthur, and Arthur felt himself frowning as well. He was unsure if he, his men, and his father were included in the _fools_ category that Aredian spoke of, but decided he did not like the man's words either way.

"Well, hopefully we'll be able to put a stop to it before it rots anymore cities and villages." Arthur said, trying a smile. Aredian grinned as well, but it was grim and mirthless.

"Ah, but young Prince," Arthur felt a shiver go down his spine, and heard the squeeze of Leon's gloves as he clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword. Aredian looked merely amused, "A man cannot live on satisfaction alone. You must put food in his belly."

At this, Arthur turned to shoot a glare Pellinore's way. The knight shrugged sheepishly in the face of his prince's ire, obviously trying to get out of the fact that he had knowingly _neglected _to inform Arthur that he had not yet paid Aredian or that Aredian would even demand a price in the first place. Truthfully, from the first moment he had seen the cage and cart, Arthur should have expected the man to demand payment in return for helping the kingdom of Camelot. Nevermind that it was a noble thing to do and was for the king, this man served no king.

So Arthur sighed, and gave in, "Yes, we shall pay your price." He added an ultimatum, pointing behind the witchfinder at the dark, frightening cage, "But only _after_ the Dragonlord's son is held within that cage."

A dangerous, cat-like smile spread across Aredian's face, and as he nodded his assent, Arthur tried to squash down the feeling that he had just made a deal with some sort of devil.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	6. Command

**AN: thought i'd post this chapter before going away for the weekend/going on a short hiatus due to the huge amount of work i have to do. early decision for the college i want to get into has its deadline next week, so i've really gotta get my butt in gear. Hopefully this chapter will satisfy those of you still clambering for Merlin! It also sets in motion a bit more of the plot and such. So yeah- enjoy and dont forget to review review review! It'd make me so ridiculously happy if I could come back from this weekend thing and see a ton of new reviews and usernames in the favorite/follow count- pleaaase**

**Thanks again!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin**

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>Aredian spoke of a town called Ealdor, which was far enough from the Dragonlords' camp as to not fall under suspicion, but near enough that it managed to fall under suspicion anyways. It was in Cenred's kingdom, and was a small border town just far enough out of Camelot' reach.<p>

"They say that Balinor first fled there when your father began his pursuit of the Dragonlords." Aredian said with a side glance at Arthur, riding high atop his horse that he had recovered sometime between the night and the morning. The poor beast had slipped and fallen down into a ditch apparently, and Aredian had had to pull his cage to safer grounds before he could go back and retrieve the horse. It made no sense to Arthur, nor did it make sense to Leon or Pellinore, but they accepted it due to slight wariness to go against the man's harsh verbal tactics.

Arthur nodded slowly, having heard the tales of the pursuit of the highest Dragonlord from his father himself. He had been two when the events had actually happened, sixteen years ago nearly to the day. That was the last moment Balinor and Uther ever considered each other acquaintances, or came close to each other without murder being attempted. Uther had bravely used the Dragonlord's deceit against him to get Balinor and others to bring the dragons to Camelot, but when Balinor had discovered Uther's true motives, he and his dragonlord kin had fled with Uther and the knights hot on their tails. It wasn't until fourteen years had passed that first slaughter - no, not slaughter, Arthur couldn't think of it like that - when the first rumors of a Dragonlord army rising up reached Uther's ears. It was another two years until the large and bloody battle happened that led Arthur to where he was now.

"There is a hill, near to Ealdor." Aredian continued, "At an odd mid-way point between the farm village and the fields where the Dragonlords let their dragons rest in preparation for their attempt at war. Upon this hill sits nothing, despite its point being most advantageous." Aredian smiled to Arthur, a chilling, amused smile. He spoke in a theatrical and deep tone, as if he was an adult trying to spook a small child with a ghost story. Arthur did not appreciate being talked to in such a way, and so he glared at Aredian sharply to show his displeasure as the man prattled on. "They say that the Dragonlords did something to that hill, that they _cursed_ it. For since a year before the fighting of this past season began, the hill has been shaking each night as if caught in an earthquake."

It was a good lead as to where the Great Dragon and the Dragonlord's son might be, incredible even, and for Aredian to have such knowledge and information was a glaring red flag for Arthur. The man must have been extremely good at his job, to be able to learn such tales that likely only sorcerers and Dragonlords were privy to. Though the frightening shaking of a hill that had been near to a camp of sorcerers and Dragonlords, Arthur thought over in retrospect, was more the topic that would easily become peasant gossip.

"And do you suggest we journey to this shaking hill, Aredian?" Leon asked, "With no more than your word to lead us?"

It was moments like these that reminded Arthur why he had looked up to Leon so relentlessly as a child and squire - and, honestly, still looked up to him. The man was, though a noble a long time in service of the King and good at following orders, unafraid to question or speak out thoughts and ideas that others might have been too cowed to say. Arthur and Pellinore were riding along, simply inhaling Aredian's words and processing them, making gestures of neither objection nor approval. Yet Leon was critically thinking, and questioning a man that would easily be able to lie and cheat Leon's way to the chopping block if the knight dared to upset him or try and work against him. It was a dangerous game, questioning a witchfinder such as Aredian, and Arthur could not help but silently cheer Leon on in his mind.

Aredian twisted in his saddle slightly to eye Leon, looking the knight up and down like Arthur had done to Aredian the night before. Leon sat, unphased, matching the witchfinder's steady gaze with his own. Yes, a dangerous game indeed.

"Well, if you would rather waste time traveling to the abandoned camp, and _then _to Ealdor, and _then_ traipse all through the forest, be my guest." Aredian said, artfully reconstructing the conversation to turn it upon Leon, painting him as the inhibitor of the progress of the quest.

"I agree with Leon." Arthur spoke up daringly, defending his knight. He felt more than saw Aredian's gaze snap to him. "We have nothing but your word. How are we supposed to know that this hill truly exists?"

It wasn't that he didn't trust Pellinore's judgement of if the man was "trustworthy," or not, but he didn't trust Aredian not to lead them in circles as a ploy for more money. The hill and the way Aredian spoke so dramatically of it sounded deliberately mysterious and _convenient. _Having the hill be there, on the border of Camelot and Cenred's kingdom so they wouldn't have to cross into territory that wasn't theirs, near enough to the abandoned Dragonlord war camp to be a plausible place for Balinor to hide his son and dragon away - well, it all seemed _extremely_ convenient.

"We could stop in Ealdor, if you like." Aredian offered placatingly, "Ask some of the locals about the hill. I'm sure they'd be willing to talk about it. After all, farm folk do tend to love to gossip."

Arthur stared ahead into the forest and tried to look pensive, as if he were considering the offer and any decision he made upon the matter was a gift to Aredian, be it an agreement or a disagreement.

"Yes," Arthur said, "I suppose that would be good to do." He smirked with Leon, "Then we wouldn't have to go, how did you say it, _traipsing_ through the forest or stop at the abandoned camp."

Aredian said nothing, but his smile was thin as he turned back to face the forest before them. Ealdor was another day's ride away, a few more hours past the abandoned Dragonlord camp, and Arthur realized with reluctance that at some point they would have to stop and make camp again. A man could not sit on a horse and ride forever after all, the act extremely taxing on one's muscles and legs especially. Not to mention the poor horses needed breaks as well. He patted Hengroen's neck, and made sure to keep his gaze on Aredian's back as their little four person group continued onwards. Arthur knew he would get no sleep with that man nearby.

And yet, sleep he did. Pellinore took the first watch, with Arthur and Leon setting up their packs near to each other and across the fire from where Aredian sat, back leaned against his large cage and cart. The metal did not clank and the chains did not swing in the cage's immobile state, and yet Arthur still cast the thing a few accusing and wary glances before he finally settled down under his blanket. The cage had awoken him last time from a dream which, now, a day later, he could barely remember, and Arthur would not have it waking him again. He turned away from the fire so he was facing off into the darkness, the forest a thick and black mass in his vision. Slowly, the frames of the few trees he could see began to shift as his eyes drooped, and when he finally shut them, the trees had become large pointed rock formations, stalactites and stalagmites _dripping thin drops of water to the stony ground. The two quarrelling voices from the previous dream were back again, their harsh anger bouncing from stone to stone._

"_How long will the ceiling hold the water at bay? How long must we stay until you, in your _great _and _infinite wisdom_, understand that we cannot?" _

"_Please." Arthur heard himself interrupt the quarrel with a whisper, his voice once again young and not his own. "Stop fighting. Just one night, don't fight." _

"_I fight for _you _though, my lord." The younger fighting voice said to him, and Arthur felt something hard nudge the small of his back with just enough force that he stumbled forward. He wrapped his thin arms around himself and turned to face the source of the voice, coming face to face with the head of a white dragon the size of Hengroen. Arthur would have staggered backwards if he could, he would have turned and run away if he could. Alas, he was merely a prisoner in the body that the dream had seen fit to give him, and so he stood there as the white dragon nudged at his chest with its nose much like a horse would when it knew its master had a treat or apple with them as a gift. _

"_Well, I want you to stop. I can't take the shaking." Arthur answered, and the white dragon snorted once before reluctantly bowing its head. A larger dragon stomped its way into Arthur's view then, its head the size of the white dragon alone, its massive bulk looming up out of the darkness of the cave so suddenly that even Arthur's borrowed body started and tripped backwards. He landed heavily on his rear in a puddle of water that had grown due to the drip of water down the cave rocks, the seat of his pants, his shirt sleeves, and the end of his long cloak quickly becoming soaked through. "Kilgharrah!" He gasped, Arthur not understanding the odd word or name that had just come from his lips, as he flicked water from his pale fingers. "How you manage to startle me being as large as you are will always be a mystery." _

_The larger dragon, with scales a tarnished shade of gold that still somehow managed to shine, completely ignored Arthur's words. Instead the beast eyed the smaller white dragon with haughtiness. "It appears your lord has finally given you a command. You would do well to obey it."_

_The white dragon turned sharply to face the gold one, jaw snapping in indignation as it ignored Arthur and what Arthur was sure was a pleading expression on his face, "No, he has _not _commanded me. He merely said he wanted us to stop." The white dragon hissed, "And because he wishes it, I will do so. So do not try and speak to me the rest of the night, Kilgharrah, or I may do something we all shall regret." _

_Arthur felt himself putting his hands over his ears and curling his fingers into his hair. "How about neither of you say anything for tonight, hm? How about that?" He could not help himself from snapping. Both dragons whipped their gazes to him, and Arthur knew that he would have cowered beneath the force of such sharp reptilian gazes had he been in control of himself. _

"_Merlin-"_

"_When you two talk, it leads to you two fighting! I never get any sleep when you fight, and I'm sure no one above ground gets any either. You shake the earth with your squabbles and I can't get any further into this cave away from the noise because of this" He paused to reach viciously for the chain around his ankle, grabbing at it to lift it into the air and then let it thunk back to the ground with an angry metallic thud. Both dragons winced. "damn chain! If I have to command you into silence I _will _but I-" Arthur was horrified to find that his heated words were dissolving into choked whimpers, as if his odd dream persona were fighting to not cry, "I would rather not." _

_The dragons both looked upon him with pity, and Arthur felt distinctly out of the loop as their sad gazes bore into him. He reached back behind him at the sight of the dragons' expressions and wrenched a tattered hood over his head, forcefully separating himself from them with that one thin barrier of fabric. His pants and the bottom of his cloak were still soaked, and so he tried not to shiver as he turned his back on the two large beasts that shared the cave with him and wrapped his cloak around him._

"_Merlin, we are-"_

"**Eimai** **siopilos.**"

_The cave fell silent at the deep toned command, and Arthur - Merlin? - let out one broken sob at the quiet. He pressed his curled fists to his mouth as the sobs continued to come after that first which had broken the dam, all one after another, and he shook with cold and sadness. He continued shaking even as the dream began to once more melt away, the darkness dripping over his eyes from the edge of his hood and pulling him back _into the cold forest where he, Leon, Pellinore, and Aredian had made camp. Arthur still shivered even as his eyes opened slightly to take in the trees that surrounded him just the way they had before he had fallen asleep. The fire was very nearly dead, which was likely the cause for the cold chill that had awoken Arthur, and with a groan he levered himself up into a sitting position while simultaneously feeling around for a stick that would provide long enough to poke the fire back to life. Leon, who was on watch at that moment, received a sleepy glare from Arthur as the prince stoked the fire.

"I'll take watch now." Arthur mumbled as he stood after giving the fire one last sharp prod. Leon, who was looking just as tired as Arthur felt, glanced at Arthur as if asking if it was okay. At Arthur's nod, Leon finally nodding to his prince's command and walked over to his bedroll by the fire. Meanwhile, Arthur scooped up his sword and propped himself up against a nearby tree. He stood there, back against the hard bark, trying not to glance over at Aredian too often while also trying to find something to occupy his mind other than odd thoughts of bickering dragons. His dream, just like the other, had already begun to fade from his memory, and so Arthur dismissed quickly the thought that the dreams might have held any significance.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Eimai siopilos - ancient Greek - "be silent" <em>**

**Please review!**


	7. Advantage

**AN: Happy Halloween guys! Have a quick update before either giving candy or getting candy or sitting in your house with the lights off to hide from the monsters running rampant in the streets. Speaking of Halloween though - I definitely want to do a Merlin fic or a oneshot or something in the future based around Samhain and some superstitious/supernatural things. I've got the fuel - so be on the lookout for that in the early November weeks ;) **

**And wow you guys definitely pulled through in the follower count aspect - buuuut reviews are worth a thousand follows as they say. Thank you though for all that has already been given! Thank youuu**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin!**

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>The people of Ealdor were a wary people, many of which reminded Arthur of the thin dogs he had seen sometimes on the sides of streets in other cities far worse off than Camelot. The people would glare or snap at Arthur, Leon, Percival, and Aredian as they passed, or instead they would simply hurry by with their eyes averted and heads ducked. The cage that Aredian toted behind him certainly wasn't helping the situation, and was likely inspiring hostility and fear in the hearts of those that saw the Camelot group travelling through the village on horseback.<p>

Arthur steered his horse, as the lead of the line, as best he could through the few people that walked the main dirt road and the often times empty cars stationed to the sides. There truly weren't many people, perhaps a little under one hundred that all lived within the conglomeration of run down huts and mud they called a village.

"Hello there," Arthur called to a woman who had attempted to duck past their group. Her hair was the color of mud and held back by a worn piece of cloth tied off just behind her ears. She was thin and young, but looked upon Arthur with angry eyes. "Where's the tavern in this little village?" Arthur asked, not looking at the woman, instead looking with squinted eyes at the buildings ahead of him, as if one of them might suddenly loom up and present itself to be a tavern.

The woman snorted, hitched the bundle she held higher into her arms, and answered bitterly, "There ain't no tavern in Ealdor. Yu'll go to the next town and get yer drink yerself from there or yu'll make it yerself jus like ev'rybody else."

Then, she ducked her head again and hurried away, leaving three rather stunned knights and one amused witchfinder upon their horses in the middle of the road.

"It seems, sire," Aredian said, "That these people aren't very open to travelers or newcomers." He scanned the people with sharp eyes, as if each and every one of them was a criminal, and Arthur detested that outlook. Though these people were not of Camelot, they should not have had to be glared and ordered into answering questions or submitting.

So Arthur, upon spotting a pole sticking up in the ground, dismounted his horse. He led Hengroen over to the poll and tied the reins there, knowing that it was not an actual station to tie off horses, but needing to improvise for the moment. Leon and Pellinore dismounted in turn behind Arthur, following his example but finding no other polls to tie their horses to.

"We'll go just down the road, sire." Pellinore informed Arthur, to which Arthur nodded as the two knights led their horses through the dirt. Aredian, with his large clattering cage, remained next to Arthur, and the man dismounted easily without even sparing a glance to see if there was any place near to tie his ride to. He merely kicked down a bar of metal on the cage to lock the wheels into place, and that was it. The large metal structure held the horse in place near to the poll Arthur had tied Hengroen to, and with a quick check of his horse, Arthur could see the beast was fidgeting warily at the proximity. He honestly couldn't blame the animal.

Pellinore and Leon were just walking back towards Arthur and Aredian when a yell cut through the air. The rather sleepy, while simultaneously tense, atmosphere that Ealdor had given off to the Camelot knights was suddenly brushed aside in favor of panic, as one man followed by a few others wrenched his way down the street towards them. He was an elderly man, with a hunched back and angry, squinted eyes. His right, wrinkled hand was gripped like a claw around the forearm of a middle-aged woman, as the old man practically dragged her forward to throw her at Arthur's feet.

For a moment, Arthur merely blinked in shock. He had seen things like this happen before, when a guard, knight, or citizen would drag a criminal into the courtroom and toss the accused down at Uther's feet. Often times, it was when someone was accusing another of being a sorcerer, usually young women or small children, who crouched before Arthur's father with tears streaming down their faces as they were sentenced to death without proof or trial. Arthur had had to sit beside his father on more than one of these occasions, but he had never had someone thrown at his feet in such a way.

"The moment I heard that Camelot soldiers were in town, I went and got 'er for you your lordships." The old man said, spittle flying from between his rotten teeth and dry lips. The woman he had thrown to the ground was slowly gathering herself, pushing her long black hair back beneath the rag over her head and wrapping her arms around herself. The small crowd that had gathered so suddenly tittered and whispered as they watched the scene, most of them likely just as confused as Arthur was in that moment.

"What are you talking about, what has this poor woman done?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the woman, trying to ignore the sneer on Aredian's face that he could see from the corner of his eye. No doubt the man who stood just behind him had been the one to throw sorcerers - be them true sorcerers or not - to the floor before a king many a time, and he was likely enjoying the tense bubble that was growing around them all and slowly suffocating them.

The old man blinked, before curling a finger at the woman who still crouched with her head bowed, "Consorted with those Dragonlords, she did. Last time Camelot soldiers came they weren't able to bring justice to her, cause of those nasty monsters swarming in their camp nearby. But now that they ain't around-"

Arthur cut the man off with a sharp gesture of his hand, and glanced down at the top of the woman's head. "Is what he says true?" He asked, not daring to believe that it was this easy to find a connection, to find the information they were seeking. "Did you consort with the Dragonlords before they launched their attack upon Camelot?"

At that a rippled gasp came up from the crowd. Being a lonely little border town just inside Cenred's territory, the people of Ealdor hadn't heard of the massive attack that had been launched upon Camelot which the Dragonlords had fled from. To hear now, from Camelot knights themselves no less, that the men and dragons that had been camping so very near to them had tried to destroy a kingdom was likely a nasty shock.

The woman, face still tilted towards the ground, slowly nodded. "Yes… Yes I did, sir." She admitted, though her tone was reluctant. The other people of Ealdor, much like the old man that had betrayed her, had likely seen her interacting with the Dragonlords on more than one occasion. To stay silent or to deny the fact was futile.

"Why?" Arthur asked. Though their group had traveled to Ealdor to ask about the credibility of the shaking hill, the fact that someone who had been in contact with the Dragonlords was still here was a stroke of luck. "Why did you help them?" He just wanted to understand.

The woman did not answer this, and the old man behind her reached forward to jerk her roughly with his withered old hand. Arthur stopped him with a quick motion once again, and the old man backed away with a gross sneer upon his lips. Leon and Pellinore eyed him harshly until he had stepped out of the circle cleared around the woman and the Camelot knights. Arthur waited until the woman straightened herself again, and then decided to ask a different question, "Did you know the Dragonlord named Balinor?"

The woman startled so suddenly that Leon jerked forward, hand upon the hilt of his sword and ready to protect his prince. She stared up at Arthur with wide blue eyes, blinking and looking as if she could not find the right words to respond. It was all the confirmation that Arthur needed, and immediately all sympathy for the woman dragged through the village and thrown to the ground before him drained away.

"Balinor is dead." He said coldly as the woman continued to blink and bite at her lips.

"Sire-" Pellinore whispered, his tone somewhat shocked at Arthur's tone. He had known the prince to be rather a bit of a bully sometimes, but Arthur had never gone so far as to deliberately be cold and cruel to someone simply to get a reaction. That was something that was more characteristic of Uther, or the more rich of the knights that felt as if they did not need to uphold the code. Arthur glanced at his knight with sharp eyes, but was cut off as a cry came from the woman still crouching on the floor.

She had brought both her hands up and pressed them to her mouth, an action that to Arthur, for some odd reason, felt vaguely familiar. "No- no, please, tell me he isn't-" She babbled as tears began to run down her face, slowly at first, but soon gaining speed.

Arthur's face was a mask of indifference, "He was a traitor to the crown and launched a failed attack to take Camelot. Why would you even hold onto the hope that he would have lived?"

She shook her head and shut her eyes, bowing her head back towards the ground again. The crowd around them was whispering again, the name _Balinor_ flying through the air in tones that made it sound like a curse. It occurred to Arthur then that still didn't know the woman's name, but her reaction to the death of a sorcerer - someone who should have been feared and hated for their disgusting, corruptive magic - was shocking to him.

"What is your name?" Arthur asked.

The woman looked as if she wanted the ground to swallow her up, and she did not look Arthur in the eye as she responded, "H-hunith."

"You seem very distraught over the death of a criminal, Hunith." Arthur said, hearing an approving noise from Aredian behind him. The sound made him shiver, and he did his best to ignore the fact that his actions were being approved by a man feared by many and loved by none. "What was your connection to him?"

Hunith's tears did not slow, and she shook her head, strands of black hair falling around her face as she shut her blue eyes to the world. "No- no-"

Arthur frowned, and asked again, "What was your connection to him?" The crowd was picking up volume, watching the informal interrogation as if it were a tournament or spectator sport. Arthur swallowed against the dryness in his throat, and did not meet the disapproving eyes of his knights that still stood on either side of him. They needed answers, they needed to find the Great Dragon and Balinor's son, and if this woman had answers, then Arthur would grill her in front of her entire village until the dawn of the next day if that was what it took. "_Answer me_."

"He, he was-" She broke off into a small choked sound, and shook her head again, and that was when her connection to Balinor was made clear.

For there to be a son, there must also be a mother to that son. Uther had mentioned Balinor's _wife_ back in the dungeon as well, when he had been trying to intimidate the lord into divulging the location of the Great Dragon. A wife likely met on the run, while planning for a war. The camp made close to Ealdor, on a plane that certainly wasn't the biggest they could have chosen for their dragons, simply to stay near to her. The other Dragonlords likely had wives and families as well, but those that had managed to flee the battle would have likely taken their families with them. Balinor had left his wife - Hunith - behind in her home village to wait for him, thinking that the threat of the Dragonlord's protection over her would be enough to keep the villagers from turning her over to Camelot. Balinor had thought he would have been able to return to her. Yet he hadn't, and here Arthur was in his stead, hunting down his family and offering them execution and imprisonment rather than a safe life far away from Camelot and the failed attempts to fight back.

"You were his wife." Arthur whispered the realization out loud, his voice not loud enough to carry to the crowd, but loud enough that Hunith let out another choked off sob of a sound.

Aredian amended that for the crowd, speaking up for the first time since the old man had brought Hunith before them, "The wife of a sorcerer - and a Dragonlord no less - is as good as a sorceress herself." He said in a tone that sounded only slightly as if he were apologetic, but it was obviously fake. Hunith's gaze shot to the black hatted man, and then to the cage that remained stationary in the street behind him. Her face paled, and made as if to move backwards - _away_ - but the ring of the crowd pressing closer and Leon's hand on the hilt of his sword stopped her.

"W-we…" Hunith breathed before stopping herself, swallowing, and then speaking again more strongly, "We are under Cenred's rule, there is n-no punishment for sorcery here."

Just like how there was no punishment for sorcery in Camelot, but that didn't stop the unofficial laws from taking precedence and bringing many corrupted magic users to justice. It was a useless argument on Hunith's part.

Arthur glared down at her, watched as Hunith hunched and wilted, and said with a tone of finality, "Yes, but _Balinor_ attacked _Camelot._ And now," Hunith's breathing picked up as Arthur's tone changed. Arthur didn't care as he spoke, barely feeling like himself, "now, we would like to know where his son and the Great Dragon are."

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	8. Advance

**AN: Alright, chapter 8 is here. This is the last chapter I have fully pre-typed, after this, the wait between chapters will likely be a lot longer because of me having to actually write the chapters haha. Other than that, nothing much else to report in this AN!**

**Thanks so much for all the follows and favorites and reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin**

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>Hunith refused to tell them where the Great Dragon and where Balinor's son were.<p>

Their group had left Ealdor still with hours to spare before nightfall, with Hunith not in Aredian's cage, but walking in front of the horses free of rope or bindings. Though Arthur, Leon, and Pellinore had all seen the maps of the Dragonlord's camp and its surrounding area, and thus knew how to get there, they brought Hunith along for more than just for her to be a guide to a place they already knew would turn up no results. Arthur had his suspicions that - despite Hunith refusing to speak as if she _did _know - that she actually had never been informed that Balinor had hidden their son away at all. It seemed a likely thing for the Dragonlord to do. The less people that knew, the less people there were to give away the location, the longer the boy and dragon would stay safely hidden away from those that would seek them out - such as Arthur was doing right now.

These suspicions also stirred touches of anger within Arthur though as the longer he watched Hunith's tired, stumbling form in front of their horses, he thought of how his father had eliminated their only reliable source as to where the hiding place was. In his callous and sudden killing of Balinor, Uther had cut off any information they could have further gleaned from him and shoved it out of reach forever. It was frustrating, infuriatingly frustrating, but it was in the past, and so nothing more could be done about it.

"Keep walking, witch." Aredian said from near the back as Hunith stumbled slightly, hands still shaking with nerves and face covered in dry tears from her mourning of Balinor. Pellinore shot his past associate a sharp glare, and the witchfinder shut his mouth but did not let his close-lipped, sardonic grin fade. Pellinore and Leon were uncomfortable, this much Arthur could tell, not only with the situation, but with Aredian as well. Aredian though had been the one to lead them to Ealdor, and without him they would still likely be wandering the countryside without a lead in sight.

The abandoned site of the Dragonlord camp rested before them on the open plain, dead squares of grass resting where tents once stood. Burn marks lined the perimeter, with concentrations in areas where the dragons likely slept piled on top of each other in the fire warmed grass. A few tents still stood, likely left in case the Dragonlords had been victorious and able to return, however, that was clearly not the case.

"Where is this shaking hill of yours, Aredian? Weren't we going to go straight there?" Arthur heard Leon ask from behind him. For Leon to be constantly challenging the man, well, Aredian certainly must have been rubbing the knight the wrong way to an _extensive _degree.

Aredian frowned at Leon, and kicked his heels against his horse's sides, causing the beast to move into a bit of a faster pace, and for the cage to clank just a bit louder with the speed. "Well, had we simply asked the peasants their opinion, and not found a better source," Aredian eyed Hunith, "Then that is what we would have done. However," He shrugged, "Plans do change."

"We should still look into that hill though." Pellinore added to the conversation, "Cursed by Dragonlords or not, it might have been another place for them to meet in secret."

Arthur had been watching Hunith during the duration of the conversation going on behind them, eyeing her closely for any kind of reaction - be it to tense up or otherwise - but Hunith gave no indication that the hill held any significance for her. She might have just been too dazed to react, as she looked around herself at the dismantled camp where her husband must have spent most of his days for the past many years planning the attack on Camelot. Her son might have spent his time in the camp as well, walking among his Dragonlord kin like the prince of them he was. Arthur wondered how old the child - monster. monster, he reminded himself - was. Likely, he was younger than Arthur himself, probably brought into the world when Balinor had fled to Ealdor from Uther those many sixteen years ago.

"Where was Balinor's tent?" Arthur asked Hunith, walking before him. The woman took a shuddering breath in before pointing at one of the tents that still stood, a large structure made of dirtied blue fabric, with no crest or flags to help it stand out from the others as a tent that housed the highest Dragonlord of them all. Arthur dismounted from Hengroen with a quick motion, and left the horse to Leon and Pellinore as he passed Hunith and approached the tent. The flap of the door hanging over it was easily pushed aside by his hand, and Arthur entered slowly as if entering a tomb. Aredian crashed in behind him, looking as if he were merely observing someone's workshop or chambers. Leon and Pellinore entered last, with Hunith walking, still unbound and without the knight's hands on her arms either, in front of them. She looked pale, and stared resolutely at the floor as Arthur ventured further into the space inside the tent, and when Arthur looked at her, he felt very much like he was desecrating something sacred. The last place Balinor had lived in was this tent, Hunith probably kept her face to the ground more out of a desire to not see the room without him, rather than to see Arthur and the red cloaks of Camelot within it, though both were probably equally terrible in the poor peasant woman's mind.

A lone, long table sat to the side with two small cots situated behind it along the back of the tent, while the rest of the space was dominated by the same burnt grass that Arthur had seen outside - where had had assumed the dragons had rested. The burnt area covered just enough space for the dragon that rested there to be assumed about the size of a small horse, and for a moment, Arthur merely stared at the area, marvelling at how any human could possibly sleep on a cot and let such a dangerous and fiery creature lie so very close to them.

"Why are there two cots?" Pellinore asked in a mumble, poking at one of the thin, dirty mattresses.

"Balinor kept his heir close." Aredian answered simply. "As most people in power do." He nodded in Arthur's direction as an example - or rather, perhaps as a mockery, as Uther had sent Arthur on this quest and had put his son far from his side in doing so - and Hunith sucked in a sharp breath with the realization of the connection she was able to make with that one small motion from the witchfinder. Arthur grit his teeth, having not realized that he hadn't revealed his identity to the Dragonlord's wife as of yet, but now understanding why she had been so compliant. She had been afraid of the Camelot knights, of that there was no doubt, but of Uther's son the fear would be stronger in one as closely associated as she with the Dragonlords whom they hunted.

The fear took quick hold, and Hunith made a quick, jerking motion, pulling herself back and crashing against Pellinore and Leon's shoulders. The two grown men, having not expected the grieving woman to suddenly put up a fight _now, _of all times, reacted not as trained knights of Camelot should have. They let her through, their shoulders turning under her weight as if they were swinging doors, and Hunith dashed back out of the tent through the flaps as if a dragon itself were chasing her. And as Arthur reacted first and rushed after Hunith, that might as well have been true.

"Stop!" Arthur yelled after Hunith, watching their only current source of reliable information - as little information as that was - and possible later leverage over the Dragonlord's son flee the camp in leaps and bounds. For a matronly looking peasant woman, she certainly was swift on her feet, with her skirts held hiked up by her white knuckled hands, and her shoes not slipping, likely tight from years of being unable to make or buy a new pair. She was running towards the horses, likely in an attempt to take one and ride off and find her son before Arthur and his knights could do so.

A whoosh of air signified the tent flap being pushed aside in haste again, and then Leon and Pellinore were at Arthur's side. A sharp whistle from behind them pulled them to a halt though, as Aredian too had stepped out from the tent, yet had not started running. At the whistle, his dark horse reared up onto its hind hooves, its front legs wheeling in the air in a frightening display of the level of obedience that Aredian had ingrained into the beast. Hunith tripped clumsily backwards at the sight of the horse's hooves suddenly rising threateningly through the air, her quick stride finally breaking as she tried to avoid the danger that had suddenly presented itself. Arthur thought he heard Aredian chuckle from behind him at Hunith's panic, but could not be sure, he was already so far from the tent.

"Don't try that again." Arthur grunted in command as he reached Hunith, pointed a finger close to her face, and wrenched her up by the arm. The dazed peasant woman stumbled again as the teen - who was taller than her despite being far younger - pulled her back towards the tent. As soon as they reached Leon and Pellinore, he relinquished her to their grasp, and whereas earlier the two knights had been content to walk behind her and let Hunith move under her own power, now they each put an arm on her shoulder and led her back towards the tent like she were a prisoner. Aredian stood and held the flap open for them, and tipped his hat mockingly at Hunith as she was shuffled past.

Now that she knew she was standing in the presence of Arthur Pendragon though, Hunith had clammed up. Arthur could care less though, as the difference between her speaking and her saying nothing at all was useless, and had no effect on how much closer he was to the Great Dragon or the Dragonlord's son.

Arthur glanced back at the two single cots, and then decided to chance and ask Hunith something, despite her having resolutely shut her mouth for good. "Tell me your son's name."

Hunith, shoulders grasped by Pellinore and Leon, only glared at Arthur.

Arthur frowned at her, "Tell me, and I'll let you wait by the horses." He offered, knowing how much it pained the woman to be in the tent of her husband while red cloaks from Camelot were also in the same space. It would also perhaps give her some deluded type of hope, that if she were tied by the horses she could somehow get away. Arthur would be prepared for that possibility though, and so it would never become realized, but Hunith could not possibly know that. She would see it as an opportunity to run again like she just had, try and find her son, and then run some more - all the way out of Albion if necessary to escape the name of Pendragon.

Yet despite his tempting offer, the woman stayed quiet. And so Arthur huffed and straightened his shoulders, trying not to pout like a child at the denial. "Fine, then I'll figure out myself. Leon. Help me look through these papers." He gestured at the small box that he had noticed beneath the table, one likely locked and full of plans and notes that Balinor could not have afforded to bring to the battlefield. Pellinore was easily able to keep his grip upon Hunith's shoulder alone, and so Leon moved away and at Arthur's command dragged the box out from under the table. Though made of strong wood, the container was not heavy, and barely made a sound when Leon slid it onto the tabletop for them to break open and examine the papers inside.

"Allow me." Aredian offered, sliding forward smoothly towards the lock, a thick thing made of iron - the only metal impervious to magic and still strong enough to survive mundane means of trying to break it as well. Balinor had been a smart man, Arthur admitted, _yet my father was smarter, _he reminded himself with pride.

Leon reluctantly stepped away, allowing the witchfinder access to the lock. Aredian nodded, and reached for his own keyring that hung upon his thick belt among other bits and bobs of metal that Arthur didn't really want to know the use of. "Sorcerers use all types of means to try and escape justice," Aredian commented casually as he thumbed his way through the metal keys until he came across a flat black stick with a curve at its end, speaking as if he were discussing the weather, "Sometimes a little breaking and entering is necessary in the pursuit." He slid the flat tool into the keyhole and jiggled it lightly, shifting his hand and turning the tool carefully, and before long a heavy thunk heard from within the lock. Arthur glanced up and threw a glance to Pellinore - who had been the one to summon Aredian - and Pellinore smirked slightly before nodding to his prince. Hunith watched on with a sad, hopeless gaze.

The lock clicked open and fell away from the box, and Aredian pulled back, sliding his ring of keys back to his belt with a smug, satisfied grin. Arthur thanked the man before he and Leon leaned back in towards the box, ready to pull the papers out and examine the war plans of the highest Dragonlord.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	9. Bound

**AN: wanted to post this chapter kinda quickly after 8 because even though i said it'd take awhile because i'd have to actually write in between updates, i was able to churn this one out really quickly. and also, because i feel that you lovely reviewers/followers/favoriters deserve some Merlin - his and Arthur's actual interactions are comin up reaaaaaaaaaally soon :)**

**Thank you sooo much for everything wow thanks**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>The first documents on the top were maps, drawn with thick, unprofessional, black ink strokes upon tanned paper. Arthur lifted them from the box with care, but Aredian reached in between him and Leon to wrench the papers from their cradle and spread them out messily on the table. Arthur scowled at the witchfinder, but none the less began to sift through the papers that had been spread out, leaving the ones still in the box to go through later if the first batch turned up no information.<p>

Most of them were maps or notes on the landscape surrounding Camelot, arrows and sloppy short handed words detailing where a good place for the dragons to land would be, where close combat would likely be engaged in, how many weapons they had to fight with for those of them without magic - things that Arthur had seen written out in councilmen and his father's own handwriting many a time.

One map however caught Arthur's eye, and he leaned in slightly so as to reach for it and slide it closer to him for examination. It was a map of the area in which Ealdor was settled, showing the path that Arthur, his men, and Hunith had taken from the village to the Dragonlord camp. The border with Essetir was marked as well, and oddly a small forest that was a bit further into Camelot territory along the border, about halfway between Ealdor and the camp, was drawn in detail upon the map. Arthur risked a side glance at Aredian as he remembered where the witchfinder had said the _cursed hill_ had been located, and then begrudgingly gestured for the man to take a look at the sketchy map, "Could this be where the cursed hill you spoke of lies, Aredian?" Arthur asked, laying one finger on the map and pointing out the spot.

Aredian squinted and slid the browned paper closer to him, then held it up as if looking through it in the open air would reveal some hidden secret. Judging by the state of the rest of Balinor's things and papers though, Arthur was sure there wasn't any hidden message written in invisible ink or lemon juice. There might have been some magic infused into the paper to hide secret notes or routes, but Arthur still couldn't see what Aredian could possibly do to reveal the magic, much less so if the witchfinder only squinted through the paper as he was then.

"Hmm… yes... it's location does match up with the tales of the hill that I've heard." Aredian said after a moment, lowering the map back to the table and laying it down before him.

Leon though, instead of accepting only Aredian's word, snatched the map up and stalked towards Hunith, whose flush and dirty from the escape attempt face glared at him with glassy eyes. He held the paper out before her, not thrusting it cruelly into her light of sight, but lowering it there as if trying to gently ask her for her assistance. "Have you heard tales of a hill around this area, have you heard of it shaking at night?"

Like when Arthur had asked Hunith to divulge the name of her son, Hunith stayed quiet. Leon huffed and frowned at the peasant woman, recognizing a lost cause where there was one, and then stomped back over to the table to slap the paper back down before Aredian. "Lets look through these papers more. Just to be sure." The knight grumbled, pulling more of the crinkled - previously locked up - plans out of the worn box and spreading them out on the table with the other papers that had already been revealed. Arthur sighed, but quickly swallowed the reaction, feeling as if it were childish. He was impatient to get moving again, feeling as if some odd _pull _was tugging at his mind and trying to force him into action.

A paper moved before him, Leon sliding it towards Arthur as he himself pulled a few notes away from Aredian's greedy eyes. Arthur slid his gaze from the witchfinder and his knight back down to Balinor's notes. He understood Leon's hesitance, but at this point it was at the point of ridiculousness. Aredian's tip to Ealdor had proven fruitful - Arthur risked a glance to Hunith, and winced at the dead look in her eyes - so the hill was also worth looking into. It wasn't as if it could be a trap, after all, Arthur was paying Aredian handsomely for his assistance that Pellinore had recommended so highly as to call the man to them without first consulting his prince.

Before his thoughts could turn too bitter, Arthur moved his focus back to the papers he held in his hands. What looked to be like a list of the Dragonlords and their sons filled half the page, and if Arthur had been any normal uneducated knight, the list would have been useless to him except to be a list of the names that Camelot would need to hunt down and bring to justice. But Arthur knew - from his father's teachings that tended to verge more on the side of furious rants - that the Dragonlord ability to command dragons was passed from father to son upon death. Hence why they were searching out the Great Dragon and Balinor's son. Leaving the boy to grow into his new abilities and command the Great Dragon as his father once had was a risk Camelot could not take.

Arthur scanned the names upon the list, following the lines that connected kin to kin, until he came to a stop at a large scratched out mess that had once been a name. Ink messily blocked the letters from Arthur, and he idly scratched at the heavy spot in an effort to maybe see what was hidden beneath.

Aredian noticed the teen's efforts, and acted boldly by taking the paper right from the prince's hands. "It's much easier to simply flip the paper over." Aredian drawled, handing the list back to a stunned and rather red looking Arthur. Arthur took the paper slowly as his face transformed into an angry scowl. Aredian merely smirked. On the back of the paper, the ink spot had not bled through, but the imprint left from the nub of a quill pressing into the paper on its other side remained. Arthur squinted at the list of names again until he found the one that had been scratched out so fervently by Balinor. He could just barely make out the slope of an M, and perhaps there was an r.

**_- Merlin. - _**

The light glow of the sun through the flaps of the tent behind him faded as Arthur fell, his mind twisting like he was being sucked through a tube. _Huge forms of rocks zoomed into focus in front of him as the tent light faded, and two dragons were trying to get his attention, begging a name that wasn't his in concerned tones, "Merlin? Merlin!" _"My Lord? Arthur? Arthur!" "_Merlin?" _

Arthur crashed back into the present, hands clenched so tight around the list of names that the paper was torn and crumpled between his fingers. He was sitting upon the ground with Leon in front of him, the knight's hands upon Arthur's upper arms, and Pellinore was at his side - Aredian having replaced Pellinore in holding onto Hunith during the moments Arthur had been unresponsive.

"Arthur, are you alright?" Leon asked, addressing the prince informally by using his first name, but Arthur neither noticed nor cared about propriety in that moment. "Arthur?"

He blinked, relaxed his grip, and blurted out the first thing to come to his mind, "We ride for the hill."

Leon reared back, nearly hitting his head against the edge of the worn wooden table. "Now?" He asked in surprise, watching as Arthur made to stand and as Pellinore jerked in his quickness to help his prince up.

Arthur's hands shook, only slightly, around the ruined paper, "Yes, _now_!" he snapped, "What, you think I mean tomorrow?" He shook Pellinore's hand from his shoulder and - upon noticing how his hands were still working the paper - tossed the ruin piece back to the table. "Pack up that box and bring it with us." He said as one final command, before spinning and leaving the tent in the least-flustered way he could manage at the moment. The flash of images both familiar and new to Arthur had frightened him, and he felt as if he had seen those dragons and those cold cave walls before, yet he could not remember where he had. The dreams of the past nights had faded from his mind, but still were there, poking at the new awareness that Arthur's mind suddenly seemed open to and growing stronger beneath Arthur's consciousness, as if a switch had been flipped by that single name.

_Merlin. _

Arthur grit his teeth, and stomped furiously toward the horses.

* * *

><p>Merlin gasped, his blue eyes popping open, his hands pressed to his head with the palms grinding against his temples. "What was <em>that?" <em>He asked breathlessly, turning his gaze to the two dragons who loomed over him worriedly, lowering his pale fingers from where they had dug into his dark hair. Kilgharrah did more worried looming than Aithusa though, the smaller of the two dragons having curled her body almost protectively around her small Lord when he had fallen unexpectedly.

Aithusa's reptilian expression, for once, was lacking in its usual spitfire and confidence. She shook her head almost mournfully, "I do not know." She answered, and so Merlin turned to Kilgharrah for answers - the dragon who was as old as his father had been, and yet who seemed wise beyond his years with the knowledge of all the past Great Dragons in his mind.

Kilgharrah eyed the young teen for a moment, before huffing a breath out his large nostrils and pulling his head away upon deeming that Merlin was alright. "I suspect something… but I've no idea if I am correct."

With a confused frown, Merlin stood hesitantly, Aithusa's snout suddenly pressing against his side and stabilizing him as he did so. He was grateful to her, and let her know by sending strong feelings of thanks through their connection as dragon and Dragonlord as he addressed Kilgharrah verbally. "Tell me, please." He asked, not wanting to have to command the dragon to obey him again. He could feel panic rising in his stomach the longer time went on from the moment he had collapsed unexpectedly. Kilgharrah's reluctance to share what he thought had happened did nothing to calm Merlin either. "Kilgharrah."

The dragon bowed his head closer to Merlin, ignoring the younger dragon who still had herself curled around the boy and who narrowed her eyes when Kilgharrah's head and gaze approached. Those great golden eyes connected with Merlin's rather ride blue ones, and the dragon spoke slowly, "I believe that your magic may have formed a connection with someone outside of this cavern."

Merlin blinked, and then his mouth slowly fell open in surprise, "But- how? I didn't tell it to do that!"

Kilgharrah nodded his head, "Yes, that is true, but your magic hardly needs your permission to act when you are scared, or when your very being wants to be free, whether you realize so or not."

Merlin, finally becoming far too unnerved by the eyecontact held between him and Kilgharrah, directed his gaze to the ground submissively, despite being the Lord in the situation. At Kilgharrah's words of freedom, Merlin examined the chain wrapped snugly around his ankle, feeling that very same fear that the dragon had mentioned. The fear that, now that his father was dead, he would never be able to escape the cave in which he and his two dragons had been bound.

"Is this connection…" Merlin began hesitantly, worriedly, still staring at the chain, "Is this connection a good thing, do you think?"

A deep, calming rumble from Aithusa, who still had her head pressed to his side, stopped Merlin from pulling and tugging at his own fingers. Kilgharrah shot the white dragon a quick flicker of a glance, but then responded, "It all depends upon who you have connected with." A tone of regret was held in Kilgharrah's rumbling voice, as if he longed to tell Merlin that it was good, and that everything would be okay, but could not do so truthfully. "What did you see, in that moment that the connection became known?"

Merlin rubbed his knuckles across Aithusa's brow, getting comfort from feeling the thick ridges and scales upon her head. "I saw my father's tent," He admitted, "back in the camp, and two unfamiliar men crouched worriedly in front of me." Kilgharrah nodded, seeming reassured, but then froze as Merlin finished speaking, his last words hurried and with a note of fear creeping through, "They wore the color of Camelot."

Kilgharrah hissed and reared his head back, nearly scraping a stalactite from its purchase on a low spot of the cavern ceiling. "You should sever this connection _now _Merlin!" The dragon growled, his mood completely changed from the firm tone of explanation and reassurance, now rageful and afraid.

Merlin, startled, but understanding of Kilgharrah's duel hatred and fear of Camelot, flinched only slightly at the sudden booming command. "But what if I-"

"_Now!" _

Aithusa snarled, upset with Kilgharrah's treatment of her Lord, and leapt away from Merlin's hands to bear her teeth and fan her wings in challenge to the larger dragon, "Do not speak that way to Merlin!" She yelled, her spitfire and confidence having returned.

"He needs to-" But Aithusa cut Kilgharrah's words off,

"No, you _shall not speak that way to him!" _

"_How dare you!"_

"_No, how dare __**you**__!" _

Merlin scrambled away, back into the safest corners of the cave, chain trailing behind him, as the two dragons launched into another argument. Though their concern for Merlin had brought them to a truce while comforting him, now that Kilgharrah had crossed back into the territory of personal objections and what should or should not be done, Aithusa had followed him over the line as well. The rock walls began to shake, as they always did, when the dragons battled with booming words and swipes of their tails and wings, and Merlin knew he would not be sleeping that night.

Now though, he had something that could perhaps comfort him. Searching out the newly revealed connection formed by his magic was no easy feat, but eventually, Merlin found a strand that led away from the rest of his magic, and he tugged upon it. He waited, tuning out Aithusa and Kilgharrah's roars, hoping that the person on the other side of the connection would feel his prodding and would open their mind so he could try and speak to them. It would be nice to know and speak to who it was he was now connected to, even if they were a knight of Camelot.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	10. Begin

**AN: Chapter 10! Woohoo! tbh, these chapters are coming rather quickly. though watch, uhghh, now that i've said that, it'll take me weeks to finish the next chapter. oh also! KYHD (_Keep Your Head Down)_ (my other currently updating story) is going on unofficial hiatus, due to a bit of writers block/need to research and outside forces working against me. This story though will continue onwards! **

**Also! this chapter has Merlin and Arthur's first bits of _actual_ interaction! they still don't exactly know each other though, but hopefully this won't seem too OOC. Hope you all like it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Arthur felt as if someone was poking him, sharply, in the temple. He grumbled and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the pain in his head and trying to focus on path forward as the hill they sought out loomed ever closer. The ground, surprisingly, <em>did<em> seem to vibrate and increase in intensity the closer they were, and it was causing the horses to become jumpy and nervous. Not to mention it was causing the people to become jumpy and nervous as well. Aredian just looked smug the more the ground beneath their feet shifted around, Pellinore was pale but stoic, Leon looked extremely worried, and Hunith - wrists tied and rope attached to the back of Pellinore's saddle - looked as if she were walking to her own death. Arthur had no idea what expression was on his face, but - another jab jolted through his forehead - he imagined it might be one of pain. His collapse in the tent had left him with a pounding headache and the sensation of being pulled, as if his entire body was wrapped with rope that was being strained in the direction of the shaking hill. Arthur had caught himself swaying in his saddle on Hengroen's back many a time due to the disorienting feeling, and each time he tightened his grip upon the reigns in attempts to keep himself grounded.

After a while of riding with his head pounding though, Arthur was fed up. Unaware of Leon's concerned looks that would flicker to him ever so often, he mentally pushed and worked against the pain, however ridiculous or fruitless that action might be. The prodding, however, retreated almost instantly. Feeling as if he had just climbed up a cliff face and pulled himself over, Arthur allowed his grip on the reins to slacken slightly, and breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden cool emptiness behind his eyes.

"_HHhhHhhhhhello?"_

The whisper was haunting and emerged slowly as if it were trying not to startle Arthur, sounding like an echo of many voices all crowded into a hollow place, and Arthur blinked into the forest around him. None of the others in his troop had seemed to have heard the voice, all of them continuing on toward the hill with their gazes directed forward. Falling silent, Arthur listened in case he had simply been imagining things, and for awhile, the only sounds he heard were the heavy clop of horse hooves and the metallic clang of Aredian's cage.

Then, the voice spoke again, and this time Arthur was able to pinpoint its origin. "_Whhhho are you?"_

As frightened as he should have been at the prospect of a voice inside his head that wasn't his own - the entire thing just _screamed _of sorcery - Arthur fought back the rising fear that would surely overwhelm him, straightened his back, and experimentally pushed against the voice. It would do no good for him to become panicked and frightened with apparently no source. Perhaps he was just imagining it, and it was just a product of his headache. But no, he thought, remembering the odd moment in the tent, he likely was not just imagining it. He pressed harder against the presence.

"_HHhey!" _The voice squawked, "_Stop! Don't be afraid, ok? I just wanna talk."_

Arthur's face twisted into a frown - Leon watched worriedly as his prince made faces at the air, Pellinore now having taken notice as well - and he released the pressure that he had been holding onto in his mind.

"_Thank you. Now, are you going to tell me your name, or are you just going to keep being rude and not tell me?" _

Arthur didn't respond, and instead stared directly ahead. The hill was closer now, the ground shaking a ridiculous amount. It was obviously the product of magic, as was the voice in his head, and so nothing good could come from either. Though the voice seemed to sound oddly familiar - as if from a dream - thankfully, Arthur had been told enough times by his father of the evils of magic to not trust it so easily.

"_C'mon, stop being such a prat and talk to me!" _

Arthur's patience and hold on his anxiousness that had been steadily building broke, and before he knew what he was doing, he accidentally disregarded nearly half of his father's teachings, and responded to the voice in an angry tone, "_I'm not a prat!" _

"_He speaks!" _The echoing voice crowed triumphantly, and Arthur's face went red. "_You know, you sound young to be a knight of Camelot."_

"_I'm eighteen summers." _Arthur hissed mentally back. He was having a conversation with a voice in his head, nothing strange there. Not at all. "_And I don't have to answer to you! I shouldn't be talking to you at all!"_ Arthur tightened his jaw so as to not allow the rocking of the ground beneath his feet to cause his teeth to chatter together. Ahead of him, Pellinore's horse was jerking its head against its reins, and Leon's horse too was shuffling its hooves sporadically. They would have to dismount and walk the rest of the way should it continue.

"_Oh, you're not much older than me! I'm sixteen summers." _The voice said, conveniently ignoring the other half of Arthur's statement as it stated its age which Arthur didn't really believe, "_Still though, I thought knights were at least twenty summers."_

The blasted voice was still trying to make conversation with him. It was likely a Dragonlord or a sorcerer employed by the Dragonlords, trying to bring Arthur's guard down and place an enchantment on him from inside his own mind, or simply distract him from his quest.

"_Shut up, I'm old enough." _Arthur growled, not realizing he had made a grumbling sound out loud as well. At this point, Leon wasn't even being subtle anymore in his observation of his prince, and Aredian too had taken notice. Aredian was looking at Arthur with thinly masked interest, his eyes dark beneath the brim of his hat. "_What even are you. What are you trying to do? I won't let you succeed you know."_

"_Woaah woah, calm down there Sir Knight. I just want-"_

A particularly violent shake of the ground cut the voice in Arthur's head off, and even if it had continued speaking Arthur wouldn't have paid attention. Hengroen let out a sound of panic as Pellinore's horse in front of them reared up on its hind legs, sending the knight toppling backwards into Arthur and his stallion's path. Hunith was jerked forward by the stallion's erratic, frightened movements, hitting the still rocking ground with a cry of pain. Pellinore, the only one actually on the ground, got up quickly, ignoring whatever bruises or injury he had in favor of pulling his sword with ridiculous speed and cutting the rope clean through just before his horse rocketed away. Hunith slumped to the ground in dual parts shock that she had survived and relief for the same reason, looking for all the world like the older peasant woman she was, her shoulders still shaking even as the ground calmed from its tantrum. Arthur felt guilt flash through him for only a moment.

"We shall go on foot from here." Arthur commanded, not letting his voice shake, as Pellinore helped Hunith to her feet and took the rope into his own hands. Leon was staring off into the forest where the other knight's horse had disappeared, but at Arthur's words he wasted no time in dismounting from his steed. They would find Pellinore's horse later. She was trained for battle and to return to her knights just like any other horse in Camelot's stables, and so no doubt they would be seeing her again.

"_Sorry."_

Arthur blinked, pausing in wrapping Hengroen's reins around his fist so as to have a firmer lead on the horse. The voice in his head had sounded truly apologetic, and Arthur's suspicions of it being a sorcerer trying to mislead him only grew, now paired with suspicions as to this hill they were seeking out that seemed to hold the Great Dragon. If Balinor's son was not there with the dragon though - well, Arthur didn't think about that. Instead, he pulled himself to the front of the group and lead his men the short final distance towards their destination, speaking to the mysterious and dangerous voice as he did so.

"_What are you sorry for? Got a guilty conscious have you, sorcerer?" _

The voice did not respond right away, and that hesitation was enough for Arthur to pull himself away from the odd prodding presence and shut the voice from his mind, though he still had no idea how he naturally knew how to do such things. The odd nudges at the edge of his consciousness ceased, and for a time, Arthur and his men walked on in silence.

The hill was closer than it had appeared while they had been on horseback, and soon all five of them stood just at the edge of the land where the grass began to slope upwards. It led up to the top, forming an impressively large mound of earth large enough that should any man place a fortress on top, he would have been envied by all his enemies. Thankfully, the hill was not shaking at the moment, else Arthur was sure he would have been knocked off his feet at least once, not to mention how many times Leon, Pellinore, Aredian, or Hunith would have fallen.

"So what now?" Leon asked, jabbing his sword into the ground, as if striking it would make it begin to rumble as they had felt it doing from afar. "The hill shakes, yes, you were telling the truth in that aspect. Perhaps it is indeed under a curse to ward people away." The knight said to Aredian, "But what else can this hill do for us? How do we find what the shaking wards us away from?"

Arthur felt the prodding abruptly return, and though he fought against it, apparently the fact that he had opened his mind to its odd presence earlier made it easier now for the voice to break through. That in itself was a bad sign, and Arthur bit his lip and tried to pay attention to Aredian's and Leon's conversation. There was nothing wrong. There was no voice in his head. There was no _sorcerer _in his head. He could deal with this, he was Arthur Pendragon, and though he should never have let the voice in earlier, there was nothing he could do about it now but ignore its presence until he was able to find and _destroy _whoever it was trying to speak through his thoughts.

"_The shaking of the hill, it's not to ward you away."_

Arthur's shoulders jerked slightly, and he shut his eyes tight for barely a moment. Pellinore - like he thought Arthur was - was too focused upon the bickering happening between Leon and Aredian as they stood at the foot of the hill.

"_And what would you know?" _Arthur hissed mentally.

"_Well, quite a bit I should expect. Except for your name. I don't know that." _

Arthur would never give the sorcerer that type of power over him, "_And you never will." _

He could practically feel the disappointment echoing from the other side of the connection, "_What if I told you my name first, would that help?"_

"_...Yes, it might." _Arthur lied, not feeling bad about it at all. He watched Aredian and Leon continue their discussion of sorts, with Pellinore chiming in from the side in Aredian's favor as Hunith kept her head bowed.

"_Well I'm-" _The voice paused, "_Oh- Oh I probably shouldn't tell you this, you're a knight of Camelot after all."_

Arthur grit his teeth, "_And what's that got to do with anything?"_

"_Other than the fact you probably want to see me burnt at the stake, nothing at all, no."_

"Sire!"

Arthur turned to Leon, who was now done with his argument with Aredian, and was focused upon his prince, "Should we proceed around the perimeter of the hill?"

Arthur blinked, his mind feeling fuzzy from the sudden tuning back in to the actual conversation around him. He tilted his head to examine the hill once more, and frowned at its massive size. The perimeter would be quite a long distance, and as the sun was quickly setting, would likely take them two full days starting the next morn to fully cover.

"Yes, let's-"

"_Watch out!"_

The ground lurched beneath their feet unexpectedly, echoing with a roar of rage the likes of which Arthur had never heard. The prince tumbled forward unexpectedly, losing his grip on Hengroen's lead as his hands sunk into the soft torn earth beneath him. Leon's horse followed Pellinore's horse's example, and the moment that the knight's grip slipped, it rocketed away into the distance away from the hill. Aredian's horse and Hengroen stood their ground though, Hengroen staying strong and faithful to his rider even through the instinctual fear, and Aredian's horse having no other choice. It still bucked and pulled against its attachment to the heavy metal cage, but could do nothing more.

Breathless, Arthur pulled himself back to his feet, wincing against the babbling in his head of "_I'm sorry"_s that never seemed to end.

"_Shut up!" _Arthur commanded, and the voice fell silent with a sharp wave of hurt. Arthur rubbed his gloved palm - smudged with dirt at the moment, though he didn't care - against his forehead as he brought his focus back to himself. Then, he turned and addressed Leon again.

"Yes, lets go around the perimeter. Perhaps there's more to this hill than meets the eye, and we will find answers through doing that."

Arthur felt the presence in his mind - the other person he was connected to - seem to shiver as he said these words.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	11. Foolish

**AN: I have such a problem with posting chapters so soon after I just post a chapter. SUUUChhh a problem. Its just that I can't stand the waiting either. If I have a chapter written, its like its yelling at me to post it. And I also love people's reactions and the reviews and favorites/follows (PLLEAAAseee send more reviews! please please) And feel like if I let a story sit too long I'll lose you lovely readers! But so yeah! Here's chapter 11. For some reason this chapter to me feels like it flows a little oddly, but that might be cause it's mainly dialogue. This dialogue is important though - stuff is gettin set into motion and things are gonna start heatin up reaaaal fast.**

**In other non-Merlin related news - I GOT TO SEE BIG HERO 6 LAST NIGHT! It was absolutely phenomenal and so much better than I expected, which was a surprise because I expected sooooo much from that movie. I might try writing some fanfiction for it actually, I loved it that much. The characters were wonderful and natural, and none of the humor or important moments in the movie felt forced at all. Please go see it please please please. You won't regret it I promise you. **

**Anyways- on with this story! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Merlin knew Kilgharrah knew what he had done.<p>

He felt the large dragon's gaze on his back before he even turned around to meet that piercing gold stare, bowing his head under the heaviness of it.

"You spoke to him - the one your magic connected you to - didn't you?" Kilgharrah asked in a rumble, speaking softly so as not to alert Aithusa to their conversation as the younger dragon explored the deeper parts of the cavern far from them.

Merlin smiled sheepishly, and scratched at the back of his neck in a nervous action as he responded to the other voice in his head by saying, "_Other than the fact you probably want to see me burnt at the stake, nothing at all, no." _If Kilgharrah knew he was still and currently speaking to the other person - well, that would get a worse reaction than the one he knew was winding up inside the large golden scaled body. So, he hesitated only a moment before he responded to the dragon, "Well, depends on what you mean by _spoke to_."

Kilgharrah pulled his huge lips back in a mild snarl of annoyance, "Do not dodge the question, Merlin. _Y_ou spoke to that knight of Camelot, _didn't you?_"

Merlin shrugged his shoulders up near his ears and began to step away in anticipation of Kilgharrah's explosive reaction, "Yes." He said. "_Watch out!" _He yelled down the connection.

And explosively react Kilgharrah did. The dragon's breath came in short huffs, as it tried to understand Merlin's actions, but could not see past the fact that his ward had been conversing with a knight of Camelot, and against his own instruction as well. "_You've possibly just doomed us all, Merlin!" _The cave cracked and shook around them as Kilgharrah's anger filled it, "_And you did not sever the connection when I told you to do so! Now that you have consciously strengthened the link through both of your minds opening, it is impossible to close!" _

Merlin cried out in fear as a rock crashed down near to him, and he covered his head with his hands in a futile attempt to protect himself as chaos reigned within the small space. "Kilgharrah- Kilgharrah please _calm down!_" Merlin yelled, eyes flashing gold every so often and redirecting any large rocks that fell towards him after that first which had nearly killed him.

"_No, Merlin! You should listen to me when I tell you to do things. Now the lesson will be learned and cemented with our blood." _

Merlin bit down hard upon his lip, so hard that blood did well within the space. He jerked away from himself as he tasted it, fear flashing through him as Kilgharrah's words continued to echo within the cavern. Merlin yelled, "I thought it would be- I thought nothing could-" His mind echoed his voice, "_I'm sorry! " _

The cave calmed as Kilgharrah did, though the Great Dragon's breast was still trembling. "No, you did not think, obviously. You wanted someone to _talk _to." Merlin flinched back, finally growing angry himself at the dragon's callous words. The dragon had no right to command him, and though he may have made a mistake by speaking to the young knight outside the hill, he would deal with the consequences and prove Kilgharrah wrong.

"Yes, I did. Is that so wrong?" Merlin hissed back, voice cracking from his yelling earlier. He whispered one last "_I'm sorry"_ through his mind in apology for causing the hill to shake, and flinched just slightly when the knight's voice snapped back at him, "_Shut up!" _Yes, he had wanted someone besides two quarreling dragons who - in this situation - cared more for their argument than him, yes, he had wanted a friend.

At that moment, Aithusa bound into the main cavern, pushing rocks aside or simply crushing them beneath her massive claws as she worked frantically to get to her Lord. "Merlin! Merlin are you alright?" She skidded to a stop between Merlin and Kilgharrah, her back arched like a feral cat's and her tail stiff.

"_...Perhaps there's more to this hill than meets the eye…_"

Merlin shivered, as if he could feel the feet of his knight walking around on the ground of the hill above. "No-" Aithusa jolted and tensed, ready to lunge for Kilgharrah who was the obvious cause of Merlin's suffering, "No! I'm fine- I'm-" He swallowed the lie thickly, "I'm fine." If it got the two beasts to cease their fighting while the knights were on the hill, then so be it. Though the other teen across the connection had seemed harmless, knights of Camelot were still dangerous forces to be reckoned with, and Merlin didn't want them to find him simply by following the sounds of Kilgharrah and Aithusa's shouting matches. If Merlin's magic hadn't chose the other person itself, Merlin would never wish to be found by them, but since it had, well, he was contemplating letting the knights find him and his dragons. Kilgharrah would go mad though, and thus Merlin wished to remain hidden for the time being.

"_Tell me your name. Now." _Demanded the voice in his head, but Merlin shook it away, similarly forcing the words away as the knight had forced Merlin out earlier. He didn't want to talk to or think about the person on the other side that had caused so many problems, whom his magic had attached him to without his consent.

Aithusa shot a menacing, sharp blue glare at Kilgharrah before bending her head and picking up Merlin's chain in her mouth. Merlin frowned in confusion as she approached him and lay the metal down at his feet. He hadn't realized before that moment how he had pulled the chain taught backing away from Kilgharrah's rage, but now Aithusa had pulled it so that he would be able to move comfortably again.

Ah, that was the other thing. Merlin had no idea how to remove the chain his father had put upon him. It was enchanted against magic - though not to suppress or destroy magic, Balinor had loved Merlin too much to do such a cruel thing to his magicborn son - and against dragon claws by being imbued with chips of dragon claws itself, and so Merlin could not break it on his own nor with Kilgharrah and Aithusa's help. Only Balinor, with the single key that he had hidden somewhere, could remove the chain from Merlin's ankle.

_For my own good my arse. _Merlin thought bitterly, yanking at the chain experimentally to see how much "freedom" Aithusa had brought to him.

"_Did you just call me an arse?!" _Shouted the voice of the knight inside his mind, and Merlin jolted in shock - he hadn't realized he had broadcasted that thought for the other boy to hear. The connection shared between them certainly would take some getting used to.

"_No! Though I wouldn't be wrong." _Merlin couldn't help but answering back, a small smirk touching his lips as he clutched the chain.

"_Why you little-"_

Kilgharrah moved again, glaring at Merlin sharply and noticing the smirk on the young boy's face, "You are speaking to him even _now!" _The dragon hissed. Though the volume of his words was far less, the rage contained in them as compared to when Kilgharrah had roared earlier had not lessened.

"Speaking to who?" Aithusa asked sharply, head swivelling as she stood stiffly between Kilgharrah and Merlin, turning her gaze to Merlin, then Kilgharrah, then Merlin, and so on.

"Our doom." Kilgharrah snapped to the younger dragon. Merlin let out a frustrated breath and slumped his shoulders.

"Don't be so melodramatic Kilgharrah. I know that I have been stupid in daring to explore this connection further, but I doubt it will lead to our doom." Merlin grumbled, still angry with the dragon for mocking his need to speak with another human being and thinking him only a selfish child.

"What doom? Who has Merlin been speaking to?" Aithusa asked, feeling out of the loop from all she had missed while she had been crashing through the deeper tunnels. She had been shaking the earth by accident with her heavy footsteps and leaps, but had returned to the main cavern upon feeling the massive quake caused by Kilgharrah's rage that she definitely had not caused. She had been worried for Merlin, her Dragonlord, and worried of what the Great Dragon was saying to the child. Kilgharrah, while known for his wisdom, had never been known to speak in a gentle manner, even when giving advice or offering consolation - which was rare for him to do. She had returned to just the situation she had expected, but hoped not to see, Kilgharrah shaking with rage, rage directed at _her _small Dragonlord, and she too had felt rage in turn. The confusion and need to understand what had happened that she felt now had come only after she had leapt between Merlin and Kilgharrah.

"He has been speaking to the one on the other side of the connection - the Camelot knight." Kilgharrah answered to the confused Aithusa, making Merlin's gut twist with guilt with his tone, feeling like he had somehow betrayed his two dragons. Yet he stood firm, not wavering, bracing himself for Aithusa's reaction which would likely be similar to Kilgharrah's. He would deal with the consequences, and deal with the lecturing admonishments from the only two creatures he had for company.

But Aithusa reacted very differently. She turned to Merlin, blue eyes sparkling with hope, "Do you think you could lead him to us? Get him to drain the pool of water above and set us free?" She asked, and Merlin blinked in surprise.

"I- Wait, are you not able to free us yourself?" Merlin asked slowly. He had always been under the impression, from how Aithusa spoke while the two dragons argued of her and Kilgharrah's great powers and inability to be contained by such a place, that she and Kilgharrah could have left the cavern at any time they wished if not for Merlin being chained and forced to stay behind. To hear the hope in his own dragon's voice now as she asked for Merlin to request help from an outsider, and see the way she ducked her head to him in answer to his question, was shocking.

"The pool of water around this cavern, the layer between us and the hill's surface, can only be drained and removed by those who are not prisoners of this hill." Kilgharrah spoke, still angry, lying his neck down and weaving his massive head over to nudge at Aithusa's side with a rumbling, admonishing growl, "And we will _not _lead the Camelot knights to drain it for us - they would slaughter us as soon as they saw how like easy game for a hunt we are."

"_Are you still there? Tell me your name."_

Merlin shook his head, ignoring the voice in favor of trying to understand what his dragons were saying, "But I thought you said-"

"_Silence_, Merlin." Kilgharrah pulled his head up from the ground to glare down upon Merlin once again, his gold eyes bright and intimidating, "You have no right to speak here now after disobeying my advice and then daring to listen to Aithusa's_ foolish_ suggestions." Kilgharrah snapped. Aithusa took the defensive instantly once again, though this time, she did not defend her Lord by reprimanding the tone Kilgharrah had taken with him.

"Foolish? _Foolish? _For trying to free us before we are forgotten by our kin and left to starve? Sometimes," The white dragon hissed venomously to the older dragon, "One must swallow one's pride, and risk being saved by an enemy than _not being saved at all._"

"_Tell me your name. Tell me where you are." _The voice asked again.

And upon seeing the dragons start to argue over an issue they had discussed many times before - like they had every moment of every day for the past _year_ - Merlin, with his heart swirling and pumped thick with anger and confusion and _hurt,_ rebelliously, made an extremely bad decision.

"_My nam__e is Merlin. Find the tunnel on the west side of the hill, go down it, and drain the pool which you find there. I am beneath it. I am within the heart of Dinas Emrys."_

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	12. Found

**AN: sorry for this short messy chapter. I've hit a writing wall recently that just came out of nowhere! don't worry though, hopefully with this chapter out i'll be able to start digging away at the wall a little bit. I'll do my best to get to work on KYHD as well, but the wall is veeeeery thick over there on that story. Bluh. I just really have gotten smacked in the face with big hero 6 lately. it was soooo good. **

**Ah well, hope you all are still here and still reading! Thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>"<em>My name is Merlin. Find the tunnel on the west side of the hill, go down it, and drain the pool which you find there. I am beneath it. I am within the heart of Dinas Emrys." <em>

Arthur blinked, pausing in his next step for a moment as he listened to the response that echoed within his head. He truly hadn't expected the sorcerer to respond - much less truthfully - and was it just him, or could he detect a note of vicious determination in the voice?

Though now, it was not just _the voice, _now, Arthur could put a name to it. Merlin. Balinor's son, for Merlin, with his name that had been appearing to Arthur so frequently since his quest had begun, could be nothing less.

And he had just told Arthur exactly where to find him. Arthur held back a smirk.

"We should head around the west side of the hill first." Arthur said out loud, glancing to the sun as he did so. It was very nearly set, but since the sun always rose in the east and set in the west, it made heading the right direction somewhat easier. "That way." He pointed toward the sun, and began marching ahead of his group, the ground vibrating gently beneath his feet.

The tunnel that Merlin had told him to look for was surprisingly easy to find - once he knew he had to keep an eye out for an entrance of some sort at least. The dark spiralling tunnel that seemed more like a dangerous hole of a trap was hidden artfully, nestled into the west side of the hill facing the forest and with nature hiding it from view with thorny bushes and thick leaves. "Here we are." Arthur whispered as he rushed toward the hidden tunnel and began to peel the leaves away from its entrance, relieved that Merlin had not lied to him. Whatever had prompted Merlin to divulge his whereabouts to Arthur, when the sorcerer had just been saying how Arthur would want to burn him at the stake, was a mystery, but Arthur certainly wasn't complaining. He turned around to motion over his knights and Aredian, "Over here! I've found some sort of entrance." Then he looked back down the tunnel, squinting to see through the thick darkness.

There were no lights, lanterns or steps of any kind to indicate that the tunnel was man or magic made. It looked incomplete and rather frightening, as if it might cave in at any moment as the Camelot group tried to journey their way down to whatever was inside the hill. A pool of water was down there, Merlin had mentioned, that would need to be drained before they could find the Great Dragon and Dragonlord's son, who rested at the heart of the hill.

_The heart of Dinas Emrys._

What on earth did Dinas Emrys mean?

"Wonderful find, your majesty." Aredian said, clapping Arthur on the back as he came close enough to peer down the tunnel as well. Leon and Pellinore followed up close behind him, with Hunith in toe, and Leon took his place at Arthur's side immediately - shooting a protective glare at Aredian as he did so that Arthur did not notice.

They descended into the darkness of the tunnel only after grabbing some sturdy bits of wood to use as impromptu torches. It wasn't safe by any means, the sticks of wood more likely to fall apart or burn up completely faster than a legitimate torch would, but it was better than going in blind. The stones rolled and the dust shifted beneath Arthur's feet as he kept his hand braced against the right side of the tunnel as a guide, leading his men, Aredian, and Hunith down towards where he knew a pool of water awaited them.

Surprisingly, the tunnel was not very long, only arching down into the ground for a length of minutes rather than the hour that would have been expected of it. It steadily began to grow wider then until it opened up finally into a large, arching, hollowed out chamber.

The chamber itself wasn't was brought Arthur to a pause though, it was the water within it. He stood at the edge of the tunnel he, Leon, Pellinore, Aredian, and Hunith had just emerged from, staring in shock at the large expanse of darkly glittering liquid.

"And we're supposed to drain this…?" Arthur whispered, gaining the attention of his group.

"What?" Leon asked, confused at what Arthur had said. In honesty, the knights as well as Aredian had noticed Arthur's odd behavior on the ride to the hill, the strangeness having begun when Arthur had seen Balinor's papers.

Pellinore and Leon had pegged it down to stress, but Aredian had far darker suspicions that he was not afraid to voice. "Why do you think we have to drain this water, sire?" The witchfinder asked, the firelight from his torch flickering darkly over his face. Arthur slid his eyes to Aredian and narrowed them, glaring at the man who dared to question him. Inside though, Arthur was panicking just slightly. He and the men he rode with condemned the use of magic, and yet there he was, listening to a sorcerer in his head to get information for his own gain. His father had told him explicitly that the laws against magic were not yet fully in effect, and yet now after having magic in his head, Arthur didn't know what exactly to feel. Guilt was one emotion, anger another, but he pushed them to the side, instead focusing on keeping the sorcerer in his head a secret for just a little longer.

"Naturally the Great Dragon is beneath this pool." Arthur answered, trying to sound like he was not someone to be argued with, "The shaking comes from just below, and the notes on Balinor's papers pointed out this pool as well."

Leon and Pellinore shared a glance - they had seen no papers that detailed the hill they were within specifically, due to Balinor not wanting to leave a trail to his son and dragon. Arthur's odd behavior was simply becoming odder and odder by the moment.

Surprisingly, Aredian backed off. He nodded his head to Arthur, but kept his unnerving gaze on the teen prince. Arthur ignored the gaze and looked back out over the water.

"So, yes, we must drain this." Arthur said with over dramatised vigor, trying to break the odd atmosphere that had fallen around his party.

"You won't be able to." Hunith whispered from the back of the group, voice rough and with a strange tone of defeat in it. Pellinore frowned at her, and Aredian raised an eyebrow, but other than that, no one said anything in response to the peasant woman's comment.

"_Are you at the pool?"_

Arthur stiffened, but then relaxed. He tried to make it look like he was inspecting the water's edge by swinging his torch low to the ground as he responded in his mind, "_Yes, how do I drain it?"_

"_You'll have to use a bit of magic." _Came the answer after a moment, bitter amusement coating Merlin's words, as a shiver travelled down Arthur's spine at the idea of him using magic, "_Are you okay with that, oh great knight of Camelot?" _

Arthur didn't respond, his emotions rolling within his gut and the thick sounds of water dripping suddenly far too loud. "_...Yes."_

"_Wow, you really want to find me, huh. I should probably be concerned."_

The lack of self-preservation that Merlin was showing to Arthur was absolutely shocking, and Arthur found himself frowning only just a bit.

"_Well, too late now I guess. I mean, I'm not exactly letting you find me just for yourself. So it's a win-win really." _Merlin continued, beginning to ramble a bit.

As unsettling as it was to hear that Merlin had ulterior motives behind his truths, Arthur couldn't bring himself to feel betrayed. He instead focused on ignoring Merlin's babbles and getting straight to the meat of the matter. Merlin and his own reasons would be dealt with in person when they met. "_What magic do I have to use? Does it involve blood or sacrifices or anything?" _He asked, rudely cutting Merlin off.

Merlin didn't respond for awhile, and finally when he did, Arthur was incredulous, "_Are you laughing at me?!" _

"_Blood and sacrifices- ohhhhh thats a good one. Is that what they teach you in Camelot, that every single bit of magic requires something dark like that?"_

Arthur straightened his back, done with pretending to be inspecting the waterline. Leon and Pellinore had gone off in opposite directions while Arthur had been 'distracted,' their torch lights becoming further and further away as they progressed around the pool of water. But Aredian, he was still there, still eyeing Arthur as if the young prince were his next meal.

"_Well if not blood, then what?"_

"_Nothing! Not at all. Since you probably don't have a jot of magic in you, you're just going to have to do things the long way. There's lots of magic built into this hill you know, and a lot of different ways to drain the pool. I don't know any of them."_

Arthur spluttered, "_But you said I'd have to use magic like you knew I wou-"_

"_Yes and your reaction was wonderful. Just hold on now while I ask someone who does know how to drain it without magic. Hopefully I won't get my head bitten off." _

"_Head bitten off- what- why would you."_

"_I'll be right back knight of Camelot!" _

Arthur felt the sudden absence of Merlin in his mind keenly, and brought a hand to his temple to rub out the ache brought on by their close proximity that was strengthening the connection. He scowled out over the darkness of the pool, and then turned around.

Only to come nearly nose to nose with Aredian.

The witchfinder smiled toothily, brought his hand up, and grasped Arthur's shoulder tightly. The prince bristled at the action and tensed, ready to toss the hand from his body in the most aggravated manner he could to show his displeasure, but was brought to a stop as Aredian spoke. Hunith looked worried and fearful in the background.

"So, please do tell me who you have been talking with in your head, Prince Arthur." Aredian asked, his voice dripping with something sinister that Arthur knew did not bode well for him.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


End file.
